w in her presence, and said that he did not know that he should
ever be able to pay it back. He planned roystering escapades which were
never put in effect, and once he really went out with the two girls to
the shop of an old German, on the Avenue, who dealt in _delicatessen_,
and bought some Nuremberg gingerbread and a bottle of lime-juice, after
rejecting all the ranker meats and drinks as unworthy the palates of
true Bohemians. He invited Charmian to take part in various _bats_, for
the purpose of shocking the Pymantoning propriety of Cornelia, and they
got such fun out of it as children do when the make-believe of their
elders has been thinned to the most transparent pretence; but Charmian,
who knew he was making fun of her, remained as passionately attached to
the ideal he mocked as ever; and Cornelia had the guilty pang of
wondering what he would think of her if he knew all about Mr.
Dickerson, whose nature she now perceived to be that of the vulgarest
_batting_.

She did not answer the letter she first got, nor any of those which
immediately followed, and this had the effect of checking Mr.
Dickerson's ardor for so long a time that she began to think he would
not trouble her again.

There was no real offence between her and Ludlow, or any but such as
could wear itself away with time and the custom of friendly meeting. He
had the magnanimity to ignore it when he first saw her after that
Thursday of Mrs. Westley's, and she had too keen a sense of having been
a fool not to wish to act more wisely as soon as she could forget.
There came so long a lapse between the letters of Mr. Dickerson that he
ceased, at least perpetually, to haunt her thoughts. She had moments
when it seemed as if she might justly consent to be happy again, or at
least allow herself to enjoy the passing pleasure of the time without
blame. She even suffered herself to fancy taking up the picture of
Charmian, and carrying it farther under Ludlow's criticism. She was
very ambitious to try her fate with the Academy, and when he offered so
generously to help her again, as if she had not refused him once so
rudely, she could not deny him. She found herself once more in
Charmian's studio, and it all began to go on the same as if it had
never stopped. It seemed like a dream, sometimes, when she thought
about it, and it did not seem like a very wise dream. Cornelia now
wished, above all things, to have a little bit of sense, as she phrased
it in her tho