After seeing Britomarte well on her way, Justin walked thoughtfully home to the parsonage.
Days passed; but no news came of Miss Conyers. Eastworth remained at the parsonage, wooing the minister’s daughter—never with compromising words, but with glances more eloquent and tones more expressive than words could ever be. For if his words were only, “The day is beautiful,” his tone said, “I love you!” his glance said, “For you are more beautiful than the summer’s day.” And Erminie! how entirely she believed in him; how devotedly she loved him; how disinterestedly she worshiped him.
“If I could in any way add to his fame, or honor, or happiness, how blessed I should be! And oh! if he should go away without ever telling me what I could do to please him, how wretched I should become! Ah! he may meet more beautiful, more accomplished and more distinguished women in the great world than ever I can hope to be; but he will never meet with one who could love him more than I do!”
Such reveries as these, scarcely taking the form of words, even in her thoughts, engaged the young girl constantly.
In the midst of this trouble came letters from the Goldsboroughs. One from Papa Goldsborough to Papa Rosenthal, inviting him, his family and his guest to come down to the Rainbows on a visit for the season; and another from Alberta to Erminie, urging her to use her influence with her father to induce him to accept the invitation and be at the Rainbows to spend the approaching Fourth of July.
No interference on the part of Erminie was needed. Dr. Rosenthal, with the concurrence of his son and his guest, wrote to Mrs. Goldsborough to say that he and his party would be at the Rainbows on the evening of the third proximo. And as this letter was dated on the thirtieth of June, there were but two days left to prepare for the journey.
As soon as this letter was written and posted and fairly on its way, Erminie went to look for her brother in the library, where, in study, he passed his mornings.
“Justin, do I interrupt you?” she inquired, in a deprecating tone, as she opened the door and found him at his books.
“No, my dear, you never do,” replied Justin, closing the volume in his hand and drawing forward a chair for his sister.
“Justin, I want you to do something for me this afternoon, please,” she said, as she seated herself.