And so she came. But when she greeted Mr. Stafford, who had nothing of the boy left about him, but who met her eyes steadily until hers fell, and whose voice had lost the old deprecating, beseeching tone, a sudden half-terror took possession of her, an indefinable fear that made her angry and yet disarmed her. Oh, she was sure she liked Lieutenant Yardley a hundred times better!
Afterward she said she was tired of all the gayeties, and wanted to go home. The plantation was at its loveliest, and there would be such rides with papa, and she was sure her mother was longing to see her.
But when bees once get a taste for the sweetest honey flowers, they haunt the spot. And Annis Bouvier was no longer a little girl. She felt the strange solemn capabilities within her. Sometimes she clung to her mother, as if not daring to meet them. The mother knew what it meant, and gave her the wordless comfort mothers can give, in a kiss or a clasp of the hand, as one crosses the bridge to womanhood.
Neighboring young men began to haunt the house. The Mason girls had always been favorites. And then down came the young Englishman, who resolved not to lose the prize if earnest wooing could avail. They were both so young. True, he had his fortune to make, but some of the noblest Virginian families had sprung from penniless young sons who had come to the new countries and won not only wealth, but fame. Captain Ralston had found a place for him, and he should live in fair sight of everybody. If he did not make the sort of man they could approve, he should never blame them for refusing him their treasure. All he asked for was time and a fair field.
"He has the making of a man in him," the father conceded to himself, but aloud he said—a little weakly: "Annis is too young to decide. In the end it will be as she desires."
"And I can come now and then as a friend?"
"It may make trouble for Annis later on, but I could not refuse," he said to his wife afterward.
Annis came and sat on his knee in the soft Virginian twilight, dusky sooner than that farther north. The whip-poor-wills called to each other, the mocking bird flung out a note now and then as if he said saucily, "Did you think I was asleep?" and the frogs in the marsh were far enough off to send a strain of quivering music. She put her arms about his neck, and her soft warm cheek touched his.
"Were you very cross and stern, papa?" in the most coaxing of tones.