CHAPTER XXVI.
A DINNER Time and chance are but a tide, Slighted love is sair to bide.
The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the door was standing open between them, as I walked up and down the parlor, waiting nervously for Richard to arrive.

The fire was bright, and the only light in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, which we had brought from Italy.
There were flowers on the table, and in two or three vases, and the curtains were pretty, and there were several large mirrors.

Outside, it was the twilight of a dark autumnal day; almost night already, and the lamps were lit.

It lacked several minutes of six when Richard came.

I felt very much agitated when he entered the room.