enamored of this handsome man?”
With downcast eyes, and sudden flushed cheeks, that betrayed the shame she felt at the part she had elected to assume, her answer was given in a low, serious voice: “I have reason to warn you as my cousin’s guardian, that his intentions are not of the best.”
Thorpe felt a strange gripping sensation creep into his heart, and then he, too, looked serious, but his seriousness quickly passed, as he thoughtfully muttered: “No, no, ’tis impossible!” and then, in a more unperturbed manner, said slowly: “His reputation for honor and rectitude is above reproach.”
Though his muttering was scarcely audible, Virginia heard him. “Are you sure?” she replied, in a voice equally subdued, and with a flash of anger in her meaning glance. “You may find that he will bear watching. And you also may find that his attention to Hazel is an insult to our family honor.”
The possibility of Hazel, his guileless orphan niece, of whom he was so proud, could be the victim of a base deception, had never entered his mind, and so it happened that the first shadow that had darkened the serenity of his trust, was, strangely enough, projected by his sister.
As his eyes again fell upon Hazel’s sweet, sensible face, then lifted to the manly, honest countenance of her companion, he at once banished the fear from his mind, and impatiently exclaimed: “Oh, this is nonsense!” Then he turned on his heel, hesitated, and again turned, and looked furtively at Corway, muttering: “Yet I cannot banish the thought. I wonder what causes Virginia – no, I have never suspected him of vice.” Then he slowly disappeared through the vestibule.
As Corway and Hazel approached the steps, Virginia seemed to stiffen and slightly shudder. She felt like ice, and disdained the slightest recognition which he made to her. She turned away with a look of ineffable contempt, and moved slowly over to Rutley and Constance.
Corway instinctively felt that she had been a witness to his scene with Hazel, but he affected unconcern, and allowed the incident to pass without comment.
During the brief time this significant episode was being enacted, Hazel’s attention was attracted to Sam and Dorothy approaching on the drive, so she was unaware of the change that had come over her cousin.
“You must come in, Sam, ’cause I like you, and you haven’t been to see us for a long time – Oh, mamma, we have had such fine fun, Sam and I” – and there appeared from around the corner of the piazza Dorothy Thorpe pulling Sam Harris along by the sleeve.
“Well, Sam,” said Mrs. Thorpe, overlooking him from the piazza, “we thought you had forgotten us.”
“No, indeed,” replied Sam, and as he discovered Virginia, he added under his breath: “At least not while that fair party is around.”
“Of course, you have acted as Mrs. Harris’ escort?”
“My aunt is on the lawn,” he answered, and then as he ascended the steps, greeted Virginia. “Miss Thorpe will permit me to congratulate her upon her safe return.”
“I have had quite a journey,” replied Virginia coldly.
“Well, you have enjoyed it?” ventured Sam, and then he noted a swift questioning glance of anger.
In his dilemma, he felt an awkwardness creeping over him and grinned broadly, and then stupidly faltered: “That is, I guess so!”
“You guess wide of the mark.”
“Aha,” replied Sam, with a roguish twinkle of the eye, “my eyes do not deceive me, eh?”
“Flattery is embarrassing to me. I beg of you to avoid it.” And she thereupon, with a look of weariness, turned and disappeared through the vestibule.
“I guess so! I guess so!” exclaimed Sam, abashed, and a flush of mortification overspread his face.
“Do you like auntie, Sam?” abruptly questioned the child.
She had softly stolen to his side, unperceived, and her voice sounded so close as to startle him.
“Ea, ah! – well, I should think so,” he unconsciously muttered.
“Mercy!” exclaimed Mrs. Thorpe, who could ill repress a smile – “Dorothy, dear! I think the robins are calling for you out in the sunshine.”
“Come, little one,” said Sam, glad of an opportunity to escape from an awkward position. “And while you are listening to the feathered songsters, I’ll keep a sharp lookout for the fair party you call auntie. Come,” and he took the child’s hand and the two ran down the steps. Darting around the corner, they almost collided with John Thorpe and Mrs. Harris, who were approaching to join the company on the piazza.
“Ha – democratic Hazel in the role of ‘noblesse oblige,’ is something new – congratulations, my lord, on the conquest!” said Mrs. Harris.
“I am proud of the acquaintance of so fair a a democrat,” and confronting Mrs. Harris, he continued: “England’s nobility lays homage at the feet of your fair democrats, for they are the golden links in the chain of conquest.”
“And it is my hope that soon one of the golden links will bear the distinguished title, Lady Beauchamp,” replied Mrs. Harris, while her eyes flashed a merry twinkle in the direction of Hazel.
“Of course,” remarked Mr. Corway, who, flushed with jealousy resented the allusion. “His lordship doubtless since his arrival in the country has been overwhelmed with offerings of the youth and beauty of America.”
“It seems to me that you are talking in mysteries,” remarked Hazel.
Mr. Corway moved toward her. “I appeal to the shrine of beauteous Hebe for vindication.”
“Ha! ha! ha! ha!” laughed the girl. “Wouldn’t it be a surprise if the appeal should be negative?”
“But the shrine of Hebe is not often invincible,” rejoined Constance. “You must remember there is hope and there is perseverence – but this is irrelevant,” and, turning to Mrs. Harris, continued: “Have you left Mr. Harris at Rosemont?”
“Oh, no! James is out in the flower garden, discussing rose culture with Virginia.”
“Then I propose that we join them,” said Mrs. Thorpe.
“And I suggest a stroll through the lovely lawn, under the glory of Autumn foliage,” added Rutley, who immediately turned and offered Constance his arm, and the two passed down the steps.
Hazel and Corway were following Rutley, when John Thorpe attracted the girl’s attention by quietly exclaiming: “Hazel!”
She at once turned to Corway: “I shall be with you directly – uncle has something to say to me.”
As Mr. Corway and Mrs. Harris passed down the steps, John Thorpe and Hazel entered the house.
“You have something to say to me, Uncle?”
“Yes, Hazel,” and as they passed into the drawing room he bit his lip in an endeavor to appear unperturbed.
With a girl’s intuition, she scented something unpleasant, and with a timid and startled look, she faltered: “What – is it Uncle?”
“Hazel,” he
