‘So I have been told,’ said Julia, with a gay laugh. ‘Am I to understand that Mr. Monteagle—’
‘Oh, no. I am not one of them,’ replied the youth. ‘Instead of bitters, I fall in with sweets, it seems.’
‘Yes, the flowers are fragrant,’ said Julia, looking about her, and evading the compliment with the pleased and rather triumphant air of one who, now, felt secure of the affections of him who offered it.
Monteagle observed all this and condemned himself for having inadvertently helped along the deception; yet it seemed too cruel to dash her new-fledged hopes to the ground, as he might have done by a single word. Candor would have dictated an immediate explanation,—but the youth gave heed to the more tender pleadings of mercy, and even said to himself—‘Time may cure her partiality for me; and another lover may supplant me in her affections; so I will let her rest in happy ignorance. I have no prospect of marrying at present, and why should I dispel a vision which, although baseless, pleases the poor, deluded girl?’
At the breakfast table, the liveliness of Julia, and her merry laugh, drew the attention of Mr. Vandewater, who looked first at his niece and then at Monteagle, as if he supposed an explanation had taken place between the young people, and that all was as Julia desired it to be.
On reaching the store, Monteagle was surprised to see a crowd of people about the door. Officers were there asking questions and noting down the replies.—Mr. Brown was flying about among the spectators, making himself so very busy that the youth almost suspected he had lost his wits.
‘Oh, Monteagle, is that you? Where’s Mr. Vandewater?’
‘I left him conversing with Julia in the breakfast parlor.’
‘Ah, yes—yes—fine girl that!’ cried Mr. Brown, tapping the youth jocosely on the shoulder. ‘But do you know what’s happened?’
‘Heavens! No!’