He threw himself out of his saddle, threw his bridle to his groom, and came up the steps.
“Ho, my boy!” he shouted, as he caught sight of the youth. “Is that you, really? Welcome! welcome! I am delighted to see you!”
And he seized Le by both hands, and shook them heartily.
“When did you get home?” he continued, in the same cordial tone.
“Only this morning,” answered Le, trying to command himself, for the sudden sight of Odalite’s father and the jubilant cordiality of his address nearly upset the poor fellow’s balance.
Had his uncle no feeling, knowing, as he must know, that he, Le, had come home joyfully expecting to marry Odalite, only to meet with a bitter disappointment?
“Come into the parlor! Come into the parlor! It is too cold out here! You look quite blue! Come in, and let’s get a better view of you!” continued Mr. Force, leading the way into the house, followed by Le.
In the hall he threw off his riding coat, drew off his long, India rubber boots, and then entered the parlor, which was on the opposite side from Mrs. Force’s sitting room.
It was a medium-sized, wainscoted room, with two front windows and one side window. It was carpeted and upholstered in dark crimson, and had a large, open wood fire burning in the ample chimney.
“Take that chair! I’ll take this,” said Mr. Force, pushing one armchair toward Le with his foot, and throwing himself into the other.