Fred had all one side
to himself, the other, was reserved for me.
It was a quiet, formal meal, disturbed now and then by a curt
monosyllable from one or the other of us. We had not much to say to
each other, considering that it was our last repast around that family
board, the dishes and cutlery had all the chat and confusion among
themselves. When it was over, I went back to my own quarters and
attended to my final preparations, the time of my departure was now
near at hand.
Next morning I looked in vain for some friendly face at the depot. No
one had thought of me at the last, though most of my friends had heard
of my intended departure. I could not be convinced so soon that I was
no longer the same person whom these people had flattered and courted
a few short months ago.
Our home, disturbed by the hand of death, was no longer a temple of
society worship where gas-light revels would be held and the comets of
the gay world gathered together to feast. Henceforth, I was an orphan
girl with limited means and uncertain prospects. Some day, if I
married well, these people would suddenly remember my past glories and
then, these slumbering friendships would be likely to revive; to open
their hearts and homes to me again. Until then I must consider myself
as set aside, not rudely, nor coldly, but with a negative intimation
of my altered circumstances which has quite sufficient force for any
soul so keen and sensitive as mine.
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