“I shall be deeply sensible of the honor of your company for a stroll on the lawn.”
For a moment the girl hesitated, as though undecided between courtesy due her hostess and friendliness to My Lord.
Observing the embarrassed expression of Mrs. Harris caused by Sam’s rudeness, she chose to accept Rutley’s arm, remarking, “It is so very beautiful this morning that I love to be out in the soft sunshine.”
Then through the room they passed—passed Mrs. Harris, to whom Rutley bent his head, passed Sam, who might as well have been in the Antipodes, for all Rutley seemed to see of him, though he looked directly at him, through him, and beyond him, out into the sunshine, with a triumphant smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, Sam! you have humiliated me beyond anything I could ever dream of,” said Mrs. Harris, whose pain and bewilderment was plainly evident.
“Aunty!” and Sam stooped and gently kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry my rudeness got the best of me. I did not mean to offend or pain you; but I shall never apologize to that fellow. Never! Never!”
His earnestness was so intense, so unlike his usual self, that his aunt abruptly arose from the chair and in a startled voice said, “Dear me! Why, what do you know, Sam?”
“Why!”—and Sam’s face broke into a broad smile, his usual buoyant spirit asserting itself—“why, bless your dear soul, aunty, he’s a villain!”
“Lord Beauchamp a villain!” she exclaimed, horrified, and she straightened up in offended dignity.