THE EARL IS STARTLED
He held her off to get a better view of her face. Then he stared at her.
“You! Engaged?” he cried.
She nodded two or three times in reply.
“Such a mite as you! Why, how long have you been engaged, pray?”
“I—don’t quite know. Ever since I can remember.”
“Oh! a family arrangement between your parents and your betrothed
husband’s, I suppose?”
“Oh, no; not at all! Only between him and me.”
“At that early age! Do babies betroth themselves in America?”
“I don’t quite know; but we did! And we were not both babies. He was a
schoolboy, but I think I was a baby at first.”
“At first, very likely! Well, when are you to be married?”
“I don’t quite know. But not until Roland gets his rights and comes into
his estates.”
“Ah! there is litigation? But who is this happy man Roland?”
“He is a mate on a merchantman at present. But when he gets his rights,
I am sure he will be a nobleman of high rank, and maybe a prince of
royal race.”
“Oh!” said the earl, with a curious smile. Then, growing suddenly very
grave, he inquired:
“My dear child, do your parents know anything about your relations with
this—adventurer?”
“He is not an adventurer,” said Rosemary.
“But when he, a skipper’s mate, represents himself to be a man of rank,
kept out of his rights——”
“But he don’t represent himself to be any other than what he seems!”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, my dear! I thought you said he did.”
“No; oh, no! I said that I feel sure that when he gets his rights, he
will be a nobleman or a prince!”
“Ah! but why should you think so, my dear!”
“Oh! no one could look at Roland Bayard and not know him to be one of
princely rank!” exclaimed Rosemary, with such solemn fervor that the
earl turned and gazed at her.
“And is this the only reason you have for thinking the young man of
gentle blood?”
“No! not only his looks, but his voice, speech, tone, manner,
gesture—all proclaim him of noble blood!”
As Rosemary spoke, she suddenly turned and looked intently at the earl,
and then she added:
“Yes! It is true! It is not imagination! I have thought of it often,
though I never spoke of it before!”
“Of what, my dear?”
“Of Roland Bayard’s likeness to you!”
“To me, my dear?”
“Yes, to you! But for the difference in age and in health, he is as much
like you as one man can be to another!”
“Indeed!”
“Yes, indeed!”
“An imaginary or an accidental likeness, my child. But, Rosemary, to
return to yourself. Do your parents, or guardians, know anything of your
relations with this questionable stranger?”
“He is not a questionable stranger. He was brought up among us at home.
Did I not tell you he used to ride me on his shoulder when he was a boy
and I was a baby?”
“Then, if he is not a stranger, you must know all about him, and whether
he is of high or low degree.”
“We do know all about him, but nothing at all about his family. He was
saved from a ship that was wrecked on our coast, and he was the only one
saved, and there was not a mark on him or his clothing to identify him.
Mr. Force undertook to provide for him, and placed him with Miss Sybilla
Margaretta Bayard, who was herself descended from a great English duke,
though no one would ever think so to look at her! Mr. Force also sent
Roland to school and afterward to college, and he would have sent him to
the Naval Academy, at Annapolis, only he had already used all his
influence to get Leonidas entered there, and he could not ask the same
favor for Roland. So Roland, being bent upon going to sea, entered the
merchant service.”
“Ah! I see. But, my child, it seems to me that you have not yet answered
the question that I have twice put to you: Do your parents, or
guardians, know of the engagement between you and this young man?”
“I have only one parent—my mother. My father was lost at sea, before I
was born, and left no property and no will, because his ship went down,
with everything on board. My mother has some property, and so has Aunt
Sukey, and they take care of me,” said Rosemary; and that was all she
said at the time.
The earl looked at her curiously.
Was the child purposely evading his question?
No; the grave little face was too true for that thought.
“Does your mother or your aunt know of your relations with
young—young——”
“Roland Bayard?”
“Yes.”
“Why, I think every one in our neighborhood must know all about it!
Because we all know all about our neighbors, and some say that they know
more of us than we do of ourselves, and that we know more of them than
they do of themselves.”
“I think that quite likely. But, do your friends approve of your
engagement?”
“Not now; but they will when Roland comes into his rights.”
“You poor child!” murmured the earl, in a low tone. Then, speaking in a
clearer voice, he asked:
“Rosemary, would you marry this young man without the approbation of
your friends?”
“No, never,” she answered, solemnly.
“That is right. Now, then, if your friends were to counsel you to accept
another suitor whom they approved, would you do so?”
“No, never,” replied the child, more emphatically than before.
“Then what would you do?”
“I would be an old maid, like Aunt Sukey. I never would marry Roland
Bayard against the will of my mother and my aunt; nor would I ever marry
any one else, even to please them. I would be a maiden lady, like Miss
Susannah Grandiere.”
“Little true heart! Well, little friend, I will not try, through your
guardians, to marry you against your will. Neither, I think, will I
marry any one else. And in any case, we shall always be friends, shall
we not, little sweet herb?”
“Always! And it is so good of you to say so!” exclaimed Rosemary, giving
his hand another fond squeeze.
They sauntered on in silence until they overtook Wynnette and Elva, who
had sat down on a garden seat to wait for them.
“It is time to go home to luncheon,” said Wynnette, “and I am starved.”
They turned their steps toward their hotel and reached it in time to
join Mr. and Mrs. Force and Odalite at luncheon at their usual hour.
That afternoon, while Mr. Force was taking his daily nap and the young
girls were resting in their chambers, the earl found himself alone with
his sister in their private parlor.
“Elfrida,” he said, “I want you to tell me something about this little
protégé of yours.”
“Rosemary Hedge?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she is the daughter of the late Capt. Hedge, of the merchant
service, and of his wife, Dorothy Grandiere, the daughter of the late
Gideon Grandiere, of St. Mary’s. Her family is one of the oldest and
best in the State. And her friends have intrusted her to us for the
benefit of travel. That is all there is about Rosemary Hedge.”
“No, not quite all. The little one tells me that she is engaged to be
married.”
“Who? Rosemary?”
“Yes.”
“Engaged to be married!”
“Yes.”
“This is news to me! I never even suspected such a thing. Nor do I know
how she has ever had an opportunity of being wooed, far less won!”
exclaimed the lady, in surprise.
“And yet the child honestly thinks that you know all about it,” replied
the earl.
“I know nothing. And I am really distressed at the news you tell me.
Have I been so absorbed in the care of my sick husband as to have
neglected the interests of the orphan child? What adventurer has picked
her up, in the name of Heaven? Tell me, Francis, if you know.”
“Do you know anything of a young fellow called Roland Bayard?”
significantly inquired the earl, fixing his eyes intently on the face of
his sister.
That face paled under his wistful gaze; but the lady recovered herself
in a few moments, and replied:
“Yes; he is a young man who in infancy was cast upon our shores from a
wrecked ship. He was cared for by Mr. Force, who placed him in the
charge of a respectable woman and afterward sent him to school and to
college.”
“Does any one know anything about his parentage?”
“He was the sole survivor of the wreck. There was not a mark on his
clothing or on his person to give a clew to his parentage. But, as Mr.
Force has practically adopted him, he will not need to investigate his
own antecedents. He is in the merchant service now.”
“Yes, I have heard so much from Rosemary. But now as to his character?”
“He is above reproach. A not unworthy namesake of two heroes—Roland and
Bayard. But why do you inquire into the history of this young person?”
“Because it is to him that Rosemary is engaged, or thinks herself
engaged.”
“Oh,” laughed the lady, “that is an old story.”
“It cannot be an old story, since the child is but seventeen.”
“It is relatively an old story. When he was a schoolboy he was much
favored by his friends the Grandieres, who lived at Oldfield, near
Forest Rest, where his foster-mother, Miss Bayard, lived, and where
Roland was reared. Rosemary was a baby. He used to pet her very much and
tell her that she was his sweetheart, and his little wife, and all such
childish nonsense as that. And I think they kept it up until Rosemary
was sent to boarding school with our girls. Since that time—some five
years ago now—I think there has been no more of it. I thought it was all
forgotten long ago.”
“But it is not, you see. The child thinks that she is engaged to him.”
“I wonder if she is attached to him,” said the lady, thoughtfully.
“I do not quite know. Perhaps, as she believes herself to be engaged,
she may also only believe that she is attached to him. It is a subject
upon which one cannot very closely cross-examine a young girl.”
“No, you could not; but I must,” replied the lady.
“Without mentioning my name, if you please, Elfrida,” said the earl, who
also religiously refrained from telling his sister of his proposal to
Rosemary, lest Mrs. Force should try to influence the girl in his favor.
And he did not wish the latter to be worried or coerced in any way.
“Certainly without mentioning your name. I shall know how to manage with
tact and discretion,” replied the lady.
“One word more, Elfrida. Would you approve of a marriage between this
Roland Bayard and Rosemary Hedge?” inquired the earl.
“Yes, I should.”
“That is all.”
“But I have not the disposal of the child’s hand, so my own approval
goes for nothing.”
“It is enough,” said the earl, and he opened the window looking from the
parlor to the balcony and went out there to walk and smoke.