The next morning the school broke up for the midsummer holidays, and the pupils went their several ways. Elfrida Fielding went with her father and uncles to Sunnyslopes. Alberta Goldsborough accompanied her parents to the Rainbows, their waterside villa. And the Rosenthals, with Colonel Eastworth and Britomarte Conyers, embarked on the steamer bound for Washington.
CHAPTER III.
A MYSTERIOUS LETTER.
The barouche containing Dr. Rosenthal and his party reached the steamer in such good season that the two young ladies had time to go down into the cabin and choose their berths from among those left vacant, and to make all arrangements for their comfort during the voyage. They took two berths in a stateroom together, unpacked their traveling bags, laid their toilet articles in order upon the little shelf below the tiny looking-glass, and then returned to the deck.
They sat down on the side that still looked toward Bellemont College, whose white walls arose from amidst green foliage on the crest of a gentle hill at a short distance up the river. Half in joy at work accomplished and freedom gained, half in regret at leaving the school where they had been so happy for so many years, and teachers whom they had loved so well, the young friends gazed upon their late home.
The gentlemen of their party meanwhile walked up and down the deck, wondering when the steamer would start, and betraying all the impatience and restlessness of their restless and impatient sex, until, as they passed near the two young ladies, Justin Rosenthal left his companions, and, with a bow and a smile, as if asking permission, or apologizing for taking it for granted, seated himself beside Miss Conyers.
Britomarte would have given a year of her life to have repressed the blush that mantled over her cheek and brow as Justin took the seat beside her.
His first words were well chosen to set her at ease.
“The scenery of James River is quite new to me, Miss Conyers. We came down from Washington by railroad to Richmond, and thence by stagecoach to Bellemont. I look upon this fine river for the first time,” he said, not, as before, fixing his eyes upon her, but letting them rove over the bright waters of the James and the verdant hills beyond.
Britomarte only bowed in reply. She would have given another year of her life for the power of controlling the unusual tremor that seized her frame and made it dangerous to trust her voice for a steady answer in words.
Justin, still letting his eyes rove over the river, and rest here and there upon particular points of interest in the scenery, spoke of the beautiful effects of the shining light and shade as the clouds floated over the sun’s disk and their shadows passed over the hills.