Travis was nowhere to be found. At last Mary Lee
wandered into the empty, dimly lighted drawing-room, and throwing
herself face downward on a long velvet divan, gave way to the feelings
she could no longer control. She had never been so miserable in all
her life before. Great, choking sobs shook her convulsively.
"Why, my dear child! What is the matter?" asked a deep voice,
suddenly, and Mary Lee started up to see the kind face of the old
general bending anxiously over her. "Are you ill? What is the mutter?"
he repeated.
[Illustration: "'WHAT IS THE MATTER?' HE REPEATED"]
Mary Lee sat up, wiping her eyes with a little, wet ball of a
handkerchief. "Nothing, thank you, sir," she said, politely, feeling
all of a sudden that the wise old general would think her very silly,
if he knew the cause of her crying. She tried to keep the sobs out of
her answer, but the effort was a dismal failure, and the tears began
to flow again.
"People often break their hearts over nothing," answered the general,
courteously, but with a smile lurking under his white moustache. "It
isn't wise to do it, and maybe I could convince you of the fact, if I
knew what particular nothing is making you unhappy."
The general had often noticed the eager, attentive little face at the
table, and had been attracted by its bright intelligence.
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