“And, now, what is this mighty mystery that must be concealed from Clement?”
Mrs. Vivian and Miss Sutherland exchanged glances, and the latter replied: “It is a letter from Mr. Sutherland, sir, that concerns myself alone, and I do not choose to make its contents public, even at the suggestion of my dear esteemed friend here.”
“Ah! Umph—hum! Yes! But now, my dear child, let me say one word. Young people are foolish, and need to be counselled by the wisdom of age. Observe, therefore, what I say, and be guided by my advice. There is no circumstance or combination of circumstances whatever, that will justify you in withholding any secret from your father; nevertheless, I am bound to say that nothing under the sun could excuse you in betraying, even to him, the confidence of your betrothed husband. Now, I hope you understand your duty! At least, you have my advice!” said Uncle Billy, wiping his head, after which he placed his handkerchief in his straw hat, seated himself, and put the hat upon the carpet between his feet—all with a look of great self-satisfaction.
“At least the advice is very practical!” said an ironical voice behind him. All turned to see Mr. Sutherland the elder, who had silently entered. He was of an unusually tall, attenuated form, with a yellow, bilious, cadaverous face, whetted to the keenest edge by care and rapacity, and surrounded by hair and whiskers so long and bristling as to give quite a ferocious aspect to a set of features that without them would have looked merely cunning. He strode into the midst of the circle, and standing before his daughter, demanded in an authoritative tone, “Give me that letter, Miss Sutherland!” She turned deadly pale, but without an instant’s hesitation arose to her feet, placed the letter in her bosom, and stood fronting him.
Seeing that the matter was about to take a very serious turn, Mrs. Vivian playfully interfered, by nestling her soft little hand into the great bony one of the planter, and saying, with her bewitching smile, “Ah, then, Mr. Sutherland, let young people alone. Do not rifle a young girl’s little mysteries. Remember when you were youthful—it was not so long ago but what you can remember, I am sure,” she said with an arch glance. “And when you used to write sweet nonsense to one beautiful Cecile, her mother, how would you have liked it if the practical commercial eyes of good Monsieur Dumoulins had read your letters? Come! give me your arm to supper; we have waited for you half an hour;” and the lively lady slipped her arm into his; and Mr. Sutherland with the very ill grace of a bear led captive, suffered himself to be carried off. Mr. Billy Bolling, with a flourishing bow, gave his hand to Miss Sutherland, and Paul Sutherland led Rosalie.
The apartment was very pleasant. The inner shutters of wire gauze, that were closed against the mosquitoes, did not exclude the fresh and fragrant evening breeze that fanned the room. The elegant tea-table stood in the midst, and the whole was illumined by light subdued through shades of ground glass—not figured—but plain, and diffusing a soft, clear, even radiance. They sat down to the table, and coffee and tea were served by waiters from the sideboard. To dispel the last shades of suspicion and discontent from the mind of Mr. Sutherland, Mrs. Vivian remarked: “We are to have Mr. Mark Sutherland home in a very few days, if I understand aright. N’est ce pas, chere Indie?” Miss Sutherland only bowed, and the conversation turned upon their approaching voyage to Europe.
CHAPTER IV.
MRS. SUTHERLAND.
On her cheek the autumn flush
Deeply ripens; such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,