At last the act came to an end. The curtain fell, and the people
around him began to leave their places, for the interval. It was
only natural that he should follow their example; and if he did so,
it was not only natural but necessary that he should pass
immediately in front of the box in question. Summoning all his
courage, but keeping his eyes lowered, Francis drew near the spot.
His progress was slow, for the old gentleman before him moved with
incredible deliberation, wheezing as he went. What was he to do?
Should he address the Vandeleurs by name as he went by? Should he
take the flower from his button-hole and throw it into the box?
Should he raise his face and direct one long and affectionate look
upon the lady who was either his sister or his betrothed? As he
found himself thus struggling among so many alternatives, he had a
vision of his old equable existence in the bank, and was assailed
by a thought of regret for the past.
By this time he had arrived directly opposite the box; and although
he was still undetermined what to do or whether to do anything, he
turned his head and lifted his eyes. No sooner had he done so than
he uttered a cry of disappointment and remained rooted to the spot.
The box was empty. During his slow advance Mr. Vandeleur and his
daughter had quietly slipped away.
A polite person in his rear reminded him that he was stopping the
path; and he moved on again with mechanical footsteps, and suffered
the crowd to carry him unresisting out of the theatre.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196