“And that it might or might not have resulted in an appointment for this evening. I did not wish to accuse you wrongfully, so I resolved to detain you in this room and observe your manner. And, Alma, your own restlessness and anxiety have revealed to me that you had made such an appointment with Captain Montrose this evening. Is it not so?”
“Yes, mamma, yes; but hear me and forgive me.”
“Presently—presently; but let me tell you first that the days of romance and poetry, of troubadours and knights, and damsels-errant have passed ages and ages ago. You cannot bring romance into your real life, except at the cost of your fair fame. And I would not have a single evanescent cloud pass before that which should be as bright as a clear summer day—for it is the only bright thing in your life, Alma!”
“And my fair fame shall continue bright, mamma! Oh! trust me and believe it!” said Alma, earnestly.
“Not if these interviews are repeated,” replied the lady, coldly.
“Mamma, an angel might have been present at our meetings without offence to its heavenly nature,” insisted Alma, fervently.
“And yet not even an angel’s testimony would be taken for that.”
“Oh, mamma!”
“Nay, I do not doubt your word, girl, nor blame you much; but I do very severely censure the conduct of Captain Montrose, who, as a man of the world, knew well how seriously he compromised you,” said Mrs. Elverton, sternly.
“Mamma! mamma! he is not to be censured!” exclaimed Alma, warmly.