CHAPTER XI.
WHO GIVETH THIS WOMAN Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions .-- _Jules Michelet_.
On my return to my quarters at Brown's I looked at the top of my bureau.
It was empty.

My friend Dandridge had proved faithful.

The slipper of the baroness was gone! So now, hurriedly, I began my toilet for that occasion which to any gentleman should be the one most exacting, the most important of his life's events.
Elisabeth deserved better than this unseemly haste.

Her sweetness and dignity, her adherence to the forms of life, her acquaintance with the elegancies, the dignities and conventions of the best of our society, bespoke for her ceremony more suited to her class and mine.

Nothing could excuse these hurly burly ways save only my love, our uncertainty regarding my future presence, and the imperious quality of my duties.
I told none about my quarters anything of my plans, but arranged for my portmanteaus to be sent to the railway station for that evening's train north.