.
"Anywhere you choose."

I think he had misgivings about my going from that moment; to allay
which, I called out something about my costume to Sophie as I went up to
my room. The day was growing duller, and stiller, and grayer. I sat by
the window and watched the leaden river. It was like an afternoon in
September, before the chill of the autumn has come. Not a leaf moved
upon the trees, not a cloud crept over the sky. It was all one dim,
gray, gloomy stillness overhead. I wondered if they would have rain.
_They_, not I, for I was going to stay at home, and before they came
back I should have seen him. I said that over and over to myself with
bated breath, and cheeks that burned like flame. Every step that passed
my door made me start guiltily. Once, when some one knocked, I pulled
out my gray dress, and flung it on the bed, before I answered.

It was approaching four o'clock. I undressed myself rapidly, put on a
dressing-sack, and threw myself upon the bed. What should I say when
they came for me? They could not _make_ me go. I felt very brave. At
last the carriages drove up to the door. I crept to the window to see if
any one was ready. While I was watching through the half-closed blinds,
some one crossed the piazza. My heart gave a great leap, and then every
pulse stood still. It was Mr. Langenau. His step was slower than it used
to be, and, I thought, a little faltering. He crossed the road, and took
the path that led through the grove and garden to the river. He had a
book under his arm; he must be going to the boat-house to sit there and
read. My heart gave such an ecstasy of life to my veins at the thought,
that for a moment I felt sick and faint, as I drew back from the window.

I threw myself on the bed as some one knocked. It was a servant to tell
me they were ready. I sent word to Mrs. Hollenbeck that I was not well,
and should not be able to go with them. Then I lay still and waited in
much trepidation for the second knock. I heard in a few moments the
rustle of Sophie's dress outside. She was not pleased at all. She could
scarcely be polite. But then everything looked very plausible. There lay
my dress upon the bed, as if I had begun to dress, and I was pale and
trembling, and I am sure must have looked ill enough to have convinced
her that I spoke the truth.

She made some feeble offer to stay and take care of me. "Oh, pray
don't," I cried, too eagerly, I am afraid. And then she said her maid
should c