The silence was dreadful.

She could not bear it.
"I am very sorry," said she, in a whisper, her eyes fastened upon the ground, her hands playing with her handkerchief.
"I hope you are," he said, quietly, with a tone of sadness, not of reproach.

There was another painful pause.
"I hope so, because I am going away," said Abel.
"Where are you going ?" "Home." "When ?" "In a few weeks." "Where is your home ?" "In New York." It was very much to the point.

Yet both of them wanted to say so much more; and neither of them dared! "Miss Hope!" whispered Abel.
Hope heard the musical whisper.

She perceived the audacity of the familiarity, but she did not wish it were otherwise.