Coming to a quiet nook, where a long window
gave a fine view of the brilliant scene, he found Christie leaning
in, with a bright, wistful face, while her hand kept time to the
enchanting music of a waltz.
"Wisely watching the lunatics, instead of joining in their antics,"
he said, sitting down with a sigh.
Christie looked around and answered, with the wistful look still in
her eyes:
"I'm very fond of that sort of insanity; but there is no place for
me in Bedlam at present."
"I daresay I can find you one, if you care to try it. I don't
indulge myself." And Mr. Fletcher's eye went from the rose in
Christie's brown hair to the silvery folds of her best gown, put on
merely for the pleasure of wearing it because every one else was in
festival array.
She shook her head. "No, thank you. Governesses are very kindly
treated in America; but ball-rooms like that are not for them. I
enjoy looking on, fortunately; so I have my share of fun after all."
"I shan't get any complaints out of her. Plucky little soul! I
rather like that," said Mr. Fletcher to himself; and, finding his
seat comfortable, the corner cool, and his companion pleasant to
look at, with the moonlight doing its best for her, he went on
talking for his own satisfaction.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92