For a moment they shaped themselves in a picture before his mind's eye; he saw their blackened foliage, their sicklied, drooping stalks, and wilted blooms, and as he looked, they restored themselves to the vigor and grace and richness of color of summer-time, as vividly as if they had been painted on a canvas.Or no, the picture he stared at was not on canvas, but on the glossy, varnished panel of a luxurious sleeping-car.He shook his head angrily and blinked his eyes again and again, to prevent their seeing, seated together in the open window above this panel, the two people he knew were there, gloved and habited for the night's journey, waiting for the train to start.
"Very much to my surprise," he found himself saying to Alice, watching her nervously as she laid the supper-table, "Ifind I must go to Albany tonight.That is, it isn't absolutely necessary, for that matter, but I think it may easily turn out to be greatly to my advantage to go.
Something has arisen--I can't speak about it as yet--but the sooner I see the Bishop about it the better.
Things like that occur in a man's life, where boldly striking out a line of action, and following it up without an instant's delay, may make all the difference in the world to him.Tomorrow it might be too late; and, besides, I can be home the sooner again."Alice's face showed surprise, but no trace of suspicion.
She spoke with studied amiability during the meal, and deferred with such unexpected tact to his implied desire not to be questioned as to the mysterious motives of the journey, that his mood instinctively softened and warmed toward her, as they finished supper.
He smiled a little."I do hope I shan't have to go on tomorrow to New York; but these Bishops of ours are such gad-abouts one never knows where to catch them.