"But what motive could the viscount have for conspiracy against her?"
"The motive of getting rid of her, while he retains her fortune, which most unluckily was not settled upon herself."
While Mr. Brudenell stood gazing with consternation upon the speaker, there came flying from the house a negro boy, who said that he was sent to tell them that the breakfast was ready.
They returned to the house and joined the family at the cheerful breakfast table. It was a large party that met in the parlor afterwards to go to church.
And a gig in addition to the capacious family carriage was in attendance.
"Ishmael," said Mr. Middleton, in the kindly thoughtfulness of his nature, "you will drive Bee in the gig. The rest of us will go in the carriage."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Middleton," answered the young man, as he smilingly led his betrothed to the gig, placed her in it and seated himself beside her.
"Go on—go on ahead! We shall not ride over you in our lumbering old coach!" said Mr. Middleton.
Ishmael nodded, took the reins, and started. The road lay along the high banks of the river above the sands.
"How delightful it is to spend this day with you, dear Bee!" he said, as they bowled along.