Not only the village of Dorton, but the whole country around it rejoiced
that Mr. Valentine Courtney was the owner of "My Lady's Manor," and that
it was again occupied and one of the hospitable homes of the
neighborhood.
His first purchase was a pair of handsome horses, a comfortable carriage
and a phaeton.
For coachman he wished a middle-aged, unmarried man, for whom he
advertised, and among the many who responded was one he was satisfied to
engage. This man was Sandy MacQuoid, a Scotchman who bore testimonials
from two Edinburgh families as to his exemplary character and
capability.
Sandy was tall, thin and pale, quiet in manner and scrupulously neat in
attire, which was always black and perfect in fit.
With congratulations of his own good fortune, Mr. Courtney brought him
to "My Lady's Manor" and the years which followed proved Sandy's
testimonials correct; he vied in fidelity with the Irish housekeeper and
the African cook.
Sandy stipulated but for one favor after the matter of salary was agreed
upon, and that was that he might bring a parrot, which had been trained
to say many things, and his Scotch bagpipes.
Mr. Courtney granted both requests with pleasure for he was partial to
pets and fond of music; moreover the place would be rendered more
attractive to his nephews and their friends, and to Hilda.
With the cordial assent of Mrs. Merryman, Hilda had availed herself of
the invitation of Mr. Courtney to read in his library, and almost every
afternoon on her way from school she passed an hour or more in the
home-like room.
Although Mrs. Flynn and Chloe saw but little of her during that hour,
they were glad to know she was there; the day always seemed brighter
when she passed on the way to the library, halting to chat a moment with
them.
As a rule, she was away by the time that Mr. Courtney returned from the
city, but it was a pleasure to him to hear that she had been there.
At his request Mrs. Flynn frequently invited Hilda and her schoolmates
to tea, which request was all the more heartily appreciated by her that
Norah always came and spent the evening in order to see Hilda safely
home.
It was also an understood thing that when Rev. Carl and Mrs. Courtney
came to take tea at "My Lady's Manor" Hilda should be invited, and she
always accepted the invitation. Thus in time she looked upon the villa
as a second home, as when a child in the cottage of her Aunt Ashley she
passed so much time there with Anna Ashburton.
Happy summers passed, and winters equally pleasant, and Hilda was
growing into healthy, symmetrical and beautiful young womanhood, the
cultivation of her fine mind keeping pace with her growth.
Three days in each week Mr. Courtney went to the city in his carriage
and Sandy, after leaving him at his office, purchased supplies for the
household.
One day, after completing this, he was driving to the hotel where the
horses were cared for, when he had the unexpected pleasure of meeting an
old friend who had recently arrived from "the land of the thistle."
Sandy invited him to take luncheon with him, after which they repaired
to the lodgings of his friend where he was presented with a young Scotch
terrier of great intelligence.
Sandy's pleasure in the gift was enhanced by that of Mr. Courtney, and
when Roy and Cecil came over that evening they could scarcely tear
themselves away in time to study their next day's lessons, so charmed
were they with the terrier.
The parrot was kept on the porch, as a rule, and in order to hear its
quaint speeches one had to go there, but the terrier was here, there and
everywhere; and Hilda was almost tempted at times to defer her reading
in the library to be amused by the antics of the canine foreigner.
Seeing her fondness for the terrier, Chloe was loth to complain of it,
but could not at times refrain when his mischief grew too pronounced.
"That pup is mighty mischievous, honey," she said one afternoon upon
recovering her breath after chasing the terrier to get her clean turban
which he had captured. "You don't know the tricks that terrier can play.
When the door-bell rings and I go to let company in, I'm never sartin
that a pile of bones or ol' shoes won't fall in when I open the door."
"I wonder why he likes best to put them at the front door when there are
so many doors to the house?" laughed Hilda.
"Jes' to be as tricky as ever he kin, honey, and where he finds the ol'
shoes is the riddle I can't guess. I never sees none layin' around, and
I burns all he fotches in."
"But he is so funny, Chloe, and we all love him so!"
"I'm not gwine to say nothin' agin him, honey, and haven't said nothin',
even when he tore up my best turban that Mis' Emma done give me. Mrs.
Flynn feeds him. She puts a piece of oilcloth on the floor by the table
and gives the terrier scraps while she and Mr. Sandy is eatin'."
One afternoon Mrs. Courtney, Mrs. Merryman and Hilda went to take tea at
"My Lady's Manor," a charming walk across the fields that lovely day,
and Hilda was the happiest of the happy.
The afternoon passed speedily and pleasantly, and Hilda, who had been
part of the time in the library, was first to see the carriage
containing Mr. Courtney and Sandy stop at the side gate. She ran
joyously to announce his arrival to Mrs. Courtney, then to the kitchen
to tell Chloe, then out to the gate to meet him.
"My home-coming is always more pleasant when Hilda is here to welcome
me," he said cordially as he clasped her dimpled hand; "something told
me that you would meet me at the gate."
Hilda flushed with pleasure, and, clinging to his hand, she went with
him to the parlor, where he welcomed the other guests, then went to his
dressing room, the terrier flying up the steps in advance of him, and
watching every movement with alert, bright eyes until he descended.
Hilda's request to arrange the bouquet for the center of the table was
cheerfully granted by Mrs. Flynn, and with scissors in hand she went to
the garden, the terrier following in an ecstasy of delight and playing
about her until he saw Archie coming through the gate, his coat upon his
arm, for the evening was warm.
The terrier ran to meet him, danced around him and barked, but Archie
paid no attention to him, and walking slowly up he placed his coat on
the balustrade of the back porch, then went to his favorite seat in the
kitchen, and was soon asleep, worn out with his constant walking.
Hilda, in the meantime, had arranged her roses in a tall vase and placed
them upon the table; then the tea-bell rang and Mr. Courtney and his
guests gathered about it, and cheerful conversation enlivened the meal.
When it was finished they went to the library, where later, Sandy, tall,
grave and reserved, joined them at Mr. Courtney's request to give them
Scotch airs upon the bagpipes.
It seemed to Hilda, seated near Mr. Courtney, that Sandy's music never
sounded so mournfully sweet as upon that evening, the last time she was
to hear it for many days. For destiny was quietly closing the doors of
"My Lady's Manor" upon her, and opening those of a distant farmhouse,
the existence of which she had never known.
In the pauses of the music the occupants of the library heard a
scampering and a scuffling upon the porch, mingled with sharp, quick
barks, and the dragging of something to and fro.
Mr. Courtney arose and was about to pass from the room to see what
occasioned the sounds, when through the open door rushed the terrier,
bearing in his mouth two letters which he dropped upon the floor and
then ran out.
"Can't find no mo' ol' shoes so must go and tear up the coat that Marse
Archie sot so much store by," said Chloe, as she captured both coat and
the terrier as he was again scampering into the library. "I done heerd
that scampering and knowed that tarrier was up to sumpin', and he's done
tore out the linin' of that good coat and the cover off a letter."
"Did he get the letters out of the coat?" asked Mr. Courtney, as Hilda
picked them from the floor.
"I 'spect so, sir. There weren't no letters on the piazzy 'till the
tarrier done tore the coat."
"This one is signed 'Janette Ashley'," said Hilda, becoming very pale,
"and is addressed to 'My Dear Sister Sarah.' I remember that Aunt
Ashley's first name was Janette," she added, turning to Mrs. Merryman
and putting the letter in her hand.
"It was, Hilda, and her sister's name was Sarah Warfield. Shall I read
it aloud?"
The girl nodded; she could not trust her voice to speak.
"These must be the letters of which Diana Strong spoke the evening of my
reception," remarked Mrs. Merryman when she finished reading. "The dates
prove that they were written the week of Mrs. Ashley's death."
"My husband wrote this one," said Mrs. Courtney, to whom Mrs. Merryman
had passed the letters. "I recognize the writing; besides, I remember
hearing him say at the time that he had written a letter for Mrs. Ashley
to her sister in Ohio. He wrote it at the cottage and I remember his
saying that Mrs. Ashley asked Diana to give him her pen from the writing
desk. He said it was the handsomest he had ever seen, a gold pen, the
handle also gold, and set with lines of rubies. He commented upon the
beauty of it, and Mrs. Ashley said her father gave it to her upon her
fifteenth birthday, and she had never used any other since."
"But where have the letters been all this time?" said Mrs. Merryman.
"Without doubt in the pocket of the coat of which the terrier has torn
the lining," said Mr. Courtney, whose handsome face had grown pale and
sad since the reading of the letters.
"Poor Mrs. Warfield never received them and we have censured her for not
replying," continued Mrs. Merryman.
"But one would suppose that not receiving any letter from her sister,
she would write to know the reason for her silence," suggested Mr.
Courtney.
"She may have done so, but I never heard of it. Diana said that she
asked the postmaster to forward a newspaper containing a notice of Mrs.
Ashley's death."
"What should be done with the letters?" asked Mrs. Courtney. "Ought they
not be forwarded to Mrs. Warfield?"
Hilda sat pale and silent, glancing anxiously from one to another, and
for a time no one spoke.
"It appears to be the just, therefore the right thing, to do," commented
Mrs. Merryman.
"As my husband wrote one of the letters, if you all agree to it, I will
take them home and ask him to forward them to Mrs. Warfield. Wouldn't
that be best, my love?" asked Mrs. Courtney, turning to Hilda.
"Oh, she may think I ought to go to her! How can I leave you all?"
exclaimed the girl.
Tears filled the eyes of the elder ladies, and Mr. Courtney arose and
left the room.
"But we would not be acting justly to the living or the dead by
withholding them," interposed Mrs. Courtney.
"No, it would not be right, they must be sent," sobbed Hilda.
"The question with me is, how letters written so long ago came to be in
Archie's coat," said Mrs. Merryman. "I know that he is, in his sad,
preoccupied way, searching for something in his pitiable wanderings, and
has his pockets at times filled with trifles, but these letters, while
somewhat stained and yellow, are not the least worn, so could not have
been carried long in his pocket."
"It will always be a mystery, I think, unless he is willing to tell us
where he found them."
"He was at our house over night," said Mrs. Merryman reflectively. "I
wonder, if asked, whether he could tell where he got them. Will you ask
him, Hilda?"
She obeyed immediately, but as they supposed, he could not give the
least information.
"Diana incidentally mentioned that she gave the letters to Perry to
mail. It may be that he is the one to blame for their not being received
by Mrs. Warfield. I will ask him as soon as I get home," continued Mrs.
Merryman.
"But what could be his object, and where has he kept them all these
years without your knowledge?"
"I have not the least idea. He has a small trunk, but it is never
locked, nor has he ever given the least evidence that he is keeping
anything hidden."
Hilda arose and left the library, and as she stepped into the hall she
heard footsteps of someone passing to and fro upon the long piazza. It
was Mr. Courtney, and as she appeared in the door-way he halted and held
out his hand to her. She glided swiftly to him and he clasped her hand
and placed it within his arm, and silently they walked back and forth.
The ladies prepared for their return home, and Mrs. Merryman went to
apprise Hilda, who withdrew her hand to follow. For one brief moment Mr.
Courtney clasped her in his arms, for one brief moment she sobbed upon
his breast, then she rejoined the others. They bade the master of "My
Lady's Manor" good-night at his gate and left him to his sad
forebodings.
When Mrs. Merryman reached home she questioned Perry, whereupon he made
a full confession, glad to be relieved of the secret which had so long
oppressed him.
Diana Strong, during Mrs. Ashley's illness, had given him two letters to
mail at the Dorton postoffice. He had opened them out of mere curiosity,
as he earnestly alleged, and they had been a millstone about his neck.
Terror of the law had made him afraid to have them found in his
possession, and what conscience he had, refused to let him destroy them.
He had taken them to the woods and placed them in the hollow of a tree
too far up for them to be seen from the ground, and hearing Mr. Merryman
say that the tree was to be felled, he was compelled to remove the
letters.
The visit of Archie to the Merryman home had left an avenue of escape,
and he watched his opportunity when the wanderer was about to depart to
slip them in the pocket of his coat; and the old man went to "My Lady's
Manor," unconscious that he was bearing a message that would take Hilda
from the home where he had placed her.
Perry was anxious to do all he could to atone, and as a commencement was
willing to leave a game of ball to carry a note from Mrs. Merryman to
"Friedenheim," that Rev. Carl might know the whole story before writing
that evening to Mrs. Warfield, enclosing the letters.
Mrs. Warfield was one who never dallied over a known duty. Her answer
came by return mail, and had Hilda been destitute of a home, or situated
less happily than she was, the letter would have given her unmingled
satisfaction. As it was, it brought to her heart and to that of another
a chill of bitter disappointment.
Mrs. Warfield wrote that she had received the paper containing the
notice of Mrs. Ashley's death while ill from the effect of the railway
accident, and the nervous terror resulting from it had kept her from
traveling since. She explained that Mrs. Lacy having gone to France to
reside, she had no one to communicate with, and had written to the
postmaster at Dorton asking the name of any friend of Mrs. Ashley whom
she could address. He replied, but had taken so little interest in the
matter that he sent the name of Mrs. Reginald Farnsworth, of San
Francisco.
Mrs. Warfield wrote immediately, and after several weeks she received a
letter saying that Mrs. Farnsworth was traveling in Europe, but the
letter had been forwarded by the postmaster in response to Mrs.
Warfield's request.
She never received a reply, and still hoped the time would come when she
could visit Dorton and learn for herself what she had used all means in
her power to know through others. She added that she was rejoiced to
know that Mrs. Ashley had intrusted Hilda to her care, and so far as lay
in her power the trust should be faithfully cherished.
The letter concluded by saying that her eldest son would visit
Philadelphia the following week, and would take great pleasure in going
to Dorton to accompany Hilda to the home that would welcome her gladly.
The evening of the day that this letter was received found Mr. Valentine
Courtney in consultation with his sister, and the next morning that lady
visited Mrs. Merryman, going early that she might see Hilda before she
set out for school.
Mrs. Courtney having--as she reminded Mrs. Merryman--no daughter of her
own, asked as a favor that she be allowed to exercise her taste in
providing an outfit for Hilda which might not be convenient to obtain in
her new home.
Mrs. Merryman, taking the offer in the spirit it was made, gave glad
consent, and it was decided that Hilda should accompany Mrs. Courtney to
Baltimore that morning upon a shopping expedition.
This was a charming surprise to Hilda. She was ready by the time Mrs.
Courtney and Mrs. Merryman had discussed the needs of the prospective
young traveler, and it seemed like a fairy story that instead of walking
to school, she was spinning along the pleasant road between Dorton and
Baltimore in a roomy, comfortable carriage behind a pair of fine bay
horses, and with the charming companionship of Mrs. Courtney.
Shopping proved to be the most attractive of amusements as they drove
from one business house to another, and to the inexperienced girl Mrs.
Courtney's purse seemed inexhaustible.
"One article that Mrs. Merryman and I agreed upon as being indispensable
is a large trunk," Mrs. Courtney remarked as they reached the city. "We
will buy it the first article, and all the other purchases can be taken
home in it."
Hilda was charmed with the selection made. It was handsome, substantial
and commodious, with many little compartments dear to the heart of the
feminine traveler.
The buying of dress goods came next, and Hilda was in her element, and
Mrs. Courtney was surprised at the judgment she evinced in selecting
what was suitable to her age and appearance.
Wraps, hats, gloves, ruffles, and all the articles which complete a
girl's wardrobe were rapidly filling the trunk which Mose had strapped
on the rack on the back of the carriage.
"Now, dear Hilda, I have a favor to ask of you, and that is to sit for
your picture. Mrs. Merryman wishes one, I should like to have one, and
brother Valentine would be pleased to have you present one to him."
"And one for Miss Jerusha Flint," supplemented Hilda, laughingly.
"Of course," assented Mrs. Courtney, amused at the suggestion. "But
first we will take luncheon at the ladies' restaurant where I always go
upon these shopping tours, then to the picture gallery, then to a
dressmaker's to be fitted, and I think we will feel that we have made
very good use of our time."
"But, dear Mrs. Courtney, would it not be better to wait for the
photograph until one of these new dresses is made?"
"No, dear, we prefer seeing you in the pink cashmere. It is the same you
wore when last at 'My Lady's Manor,' and is very becoming. We will go
now and have a good luncheon which will refresh us for our afternoon's
shopping."
The gallery was visited and the sweet face of Hilda imaged for the
friends she was soon to leave, the dresses fitted, and she supposed all
they had come to do was accomplished.
"We have had a pleasant day together, Hilda," said her friend, "and I
wish to give you a remembrance of it and of me--something useful as well
as ornamental. Would you like a watch?"
No need to wait for an answer; the beaming eyes, smiling lips and rosy
tint which rose to the fair face were more expressive than words, and
Mrs. Courtney led the way to a jeweler's where she again had occasion to
admire the innate refinement and courtesy of Hilda. What the donor
selected was her choice, and her pleasure was enhanced and the value of
the gift increased by the inscription which Mrs. Courtney requested
should be engraved on the inner side of the case: "The Lord is my
Shepherd; I shall not want."
It was left with the jeweler to be brought out to "Friedenheim" by Mr.
Courtney. Then they turned their faces homeward, and thus ended this red
letter day in the life of Hilda.
It had always been a foregone conclusion that anything in which Mrs.
Courtney took part proved to be a success; therefore the pretty new
gowns, the watch and the cabinet pictures reached "Friedenheim" in good
time, and were satisfactory in every respect.
Mrs. Warfield's son Paul came at the appointed time and was, in the eyes
of Mr. Valentine Courtney--who, with his sister, called that evening to
see him and bid good-bye to Hilda--a young Apollo. In the opinion of the
others--Hilda not excepted--he was a tall, finely formed young man, with
good features, dark hair and eyes and a firm mouth and chin.
He bore well his part in the after-supper conversation, and Hilda had a
feeling of pride that her Aunt Ashley's nephew was so worthy the
attention of her Dorton friends, while he was more than pleased with
them all.
"He is young, handsome, cultured, well educated and agreeable," thought
Mr. Courtney. "There is every reason for Hilda to become attached to him
now that they will be under the same roof."
Obeying the request of Mrs. Courtney, and her own inclination, Hilda
selected the most perfect of the pictures of herself to give to Mr.
Courtney, and had gone to her room early in the evening and had brought
it down to the parlor to have it in readiness to give when he arose to
leave.
It was given and accepted, farewells were said, and the Courtneys went
to their homes; then Hilda, who had borne herself bravely during the
evening, bade Mr. and Mrs. Merryman and Paul good-night and went to her
room, and from the window looked with tear-dimmed eyes upon "My Lady's
Manor."
She watched the light gleaming in the library where she knew that Mr.
Courtney was sitting alone, and when at a late hour it disappeared she
retired and wept until slumber closed her eyes.
The next morning was bright and beautiful, and, refreshed by sleep, and
possessing the hope and buoyancy of youth when not crushed out by
affliction or cruelty, Hilda arose and dressed for her journey in the
pretty new traveling dress, which, with hat and gloves, she had placed
in readiness before retiring.
Descending to breakfast, the first object that met her gaze was a
bouquet of roses which she knew at a glance had come from Mr. Courtney.
She had been accustomed to seeing flowers all her life, but these seemed
the sweetest and loveliest she had ever known. She examined each bud and
blossom, and admired anew the donor's name and compliments upon the
card.
Tears were in Mrs. Merryman's eyes, and tender-hearted Norah wept, when
Hilda, equipped for the journey, stood, bouquet in hand, ready to go to
the carriage which Perry brought to the gate.
"Good-bye, dear Aunt Merryman!" she said, putting an arm around that
faithful friend as they stood upon the piazza.
"Good-bye, dear Hilda!" responded the lady as she pressed kisses upon
the lips and the fair brow of the girl. "We shall miss you; do not
forget us."
"How can I forget, when I have found mother and father in you and Uncle
Merryman?"
"And, Hilda," continued Mrs. Merryman in a low tone, and noticing that
Mr. Merryman and Paul were engaged in parting words--"never, never let
your Aunt Ashley's prayer grow dim in your memory."
"No, dear Aunt Merryman, I will always look upon it as my guide through
life, and with it will associate you who have tenderly kept it in my
remembrance; and see," she added with a sudden flush of color to her
cheeks, "it is being answered, in part, at least, for my home and that
of Aunt Sarah Warfield will be one and the same."
They all walked down the path to the waiting carriage, Mr. Merryman
helped her in and bade her good-bye; then with a few last words they
were on their way to the Dorton station while Mr. and Mrs. Merryman
returned slowly to the house feeling that something sweet and pleasant
had been removed from their home and lives, never again to be restored.
In a few minutes the travelers reached Baltimore, where the train
halted, and to Hilda's surprise and pleasure Mr. Valentine Courtney
appeared at the window by which she was seated, his handsome face
growing brighter when he saw his roses in her hand.
"They are lovely; I treasure them!" she said, touching them with her
lips.
"And this, also, I hope," he said, putting a small package in her hand.
"I know I shall," she answered, flushing with surprise and anticipation,
giving him a smile and glance which lingered long in his memory. She
waved her hand in farewell, and they were gone. And he returned to his
office, and in the evening to "My Lady's Manor," feeling more desolate
than he had ever been in his life.
The world in which he had lived since taking possession of his home was
not, as it had been, the matter-of-fact world of business alone. It was
a new world, rosy with sweet companionship and hope; morning sunshine
which had now given place to evening clouds and coming darkness.
He tried to think that he was no more desolate than before he had known
Hilda, but his reasonings brought no comfort. He was not--as when Anna
was taken from him--reconciled to the lot which he had in Christian
faith looked upon as not only out of his power to prevent, but as
something which God willed, and it was therefore his Christian duty to
be submissive.
Had Hilda been a few years older, Paul Warfield should not have taken
her away before he had made known his attachment. He had not done this,
believing it not honorable to fetter her with a promise before she had
seen anything of the world. Now she was gone, and he was grieved that he
had given her no hint of his feelings. He realized that he had been
unjust to himself and to her.
As soon as possible after they were again on their way, Hilda untied the
packet and brought to view a crimson velvet case in which was a fine
picture of Mr. Courtney.
"Oh, it is so like him, so exactly like him!" she exclaimed in delight,
as Paul bent his stately head to look upon it. "Isn't he the very
handsomest man you ever saw?"
"He is very elegant looking, indeed, Cousin Hilda," responded Paul
heartily.
"And just as good as he is handsome! He is so kind to everybody and
urges poor Archie, who saved my life, to make his home at 'My Lady's
Manor,' and pass his days in rest and comfort; but Archie will stay only
for a night, preferring to wander about."
"He is handsome and of noble presence, Cousin Hilda," remarked Paul as
he saw her looking again upon the picture, "but I cannot agree with you
that he is the handsomest man I ever saw, and he is somewhat gray."
"Only a little upon the temples," said Hilda eagerly. "Some persons turn
gray early."
"Wait until you have seen my brother Fred," said Paul, a little
confusedly. "Do not think me boastful, Cousin Hilda, but all agree that
Fred is very handsome, and he is young."
"I suppose he looks like you," said Hilda, in all sincerity.
"Girls never see me when Fred is around. He seems to know exactly what
to say to interest them."
"And 'My Lady's Manor' is such a lovely place," resumed Hilda. "I wish
you could have stayed even one day longer and visited there and at
'Friedenheim.' They are such beautiful places, and my friends are all so
kind."
"They are indeed charming people. I was glad to meet them and would have
enjoyed remaining, but, little cousin, I have something to tell you.
Shall it be now?"
"Yes, now," echoed the girl eagerly.
"I told your Dorton friends that we would remain in Philadelphia until
to-morrow with Mr. and Mrs. De Cormis, old friends of my father. A niece
of Mr. De Cormis from Woodmont, a village near my home in Ohio, is
visiting there, and I am glad to have you become acquainted."
"Is she a dear friend of yours?"
"Yes, the dearest."
"Did she come to Philadelphia with you?"
"No, she has been there several weeks. She has many friends there to
visit, for she lived there all her life until the past four years, when
she and her father came to Woodmont. Her father, Rev. Horace De Cormis,
is pastor of our church and is one of the best of men."
"Will she go back to Ohio with us?"
"No, her visit is not yet completed. Her uncle, Mr. Robert De Cormis,
and his family wish her to remain the winter with them, but she is a
devoted daughter and is not willing to leave her father longer than a
fortnight more. You may know that we were glad to meet again."
"You love each other, then?"
"Oh, little cousin, when you see her you will understand how impossible
it would be not to love her! If nothing prevents, we expect to be
married before another autumn."
"I am glad, Cousin Paul, and hope you will be very happy."
"Thank you, cousin; I am sure you wish it. I cannot fail being happy
with Lura De Cormis."
"What style of person is she, Cousin Paul?"
"She is faultlessly fair, has coal black hair and brilliant black eyes,
lips like coral, perfect teeth, and her hands are small, white, and
beautifully formed."
"She must be beautiful," commented Hilda. "I hope she will love me. Is
it easy to make her acquaintance?"
"She is considered very reserved, but she is interested in you. I am
sure you cannot help being congenial friends."
Paul's fiancee was out when the travelers arrived at the handsome home
of Mr. Robert De Cormis.
Mrs. De Cormis received them cordially and conducted Hilda to the pretty
apartment she was to occupy, then left her that she might make her
toilet for dinner.
Hilda took girlish delight in arraying herself in one of the new gowns,
which fitted her lithe figure perfectly and was charmingly becoming.
She heard the door-bell ring, and heard the sound of cheery voices and
descended to the parlor to meet Miss Lura De Cormis. Paul met her at the
door and led her to the alcove window where the young lady stood, so
absorbed in reading a letter just received from her father that she did
not hear Hilda's step upon the soft carpet.
The introduction was given and when Hilda looked upon the face of the
future Mrs. Paul Warfield she saw a younger and fairer, but with those
exceptions, a living image of Jerusha Flint.