"But Hesden—you are not—do tell me, my son," said his mother, in a tone of entreaty, "that you are not one of those horrid Radicals!"
"There, there; do not excite yourself, mother. I will explain everything to you this evening," said he, soothingly.
"But you are not a Radical?" she cried, catching his hand.
"I am a man of honor, always," he replied, proudly.
"Then you cannot be a Radical," she said, with a happy smile.
"But he is—he is!" exclaimed the younger lady, starting forward with flushed cheeks and pointing a trembling finger at his face, as if she had detected a guilty culprit. "He is!" she repeated. "Deny it if you dare, Hesden Le Moyne!"
"Indeed, Miss Hetty," said Hesden, turning upon her with dignified severity. "May I inquire who constituted you either my judge or my accuser."
"Oh fie! Hesden," said his mother. "Isn't Hetty one of the family?"
"And has every Richards and Le Moyne on the planet a right to challenge my opinions?" asked Hesden.
"Certainly!" said his mother, with much energy, while her pale face flushed, and her upraised hand trembled—"certainly they have, my son, if they think you are about to disgrace those names. But do deny it! Do tell me you are not a Radical!" she pleaded.