Mr. Fairfax looked at him with mingled astonishment, wonder and compassion.
“Boy—boy—you haven’t entrapped my dear child’s heart?” again inquired the old gentleman, trembling with excess of feeling.
“Entrapped is not exactly the word, sir,” said Frank, proudly and mournfully. “I learned to love her, and I won her love without designing to do either!”
“Lost! Lost!” cried Mr. Clifton, dropping his head upon his bosom. He walked on in silence so desponding, that Fairfax could not bring himself to intrude upon it. They went on until they suddenly met Major Cabell himself coming down the hill, apparently from Hardbargain.
The Major was walking slowly, with his head down, and twirling around his finger a topaz necklace. As soon as he perceived Messrs. Clifton and Fairfax, his forehead flushed, and he hastily crammed the necklace into his vest pocket. Frank thought the whole thing strange, but, but stranger still was the conduct—the metamorphosis—the transfiguration of Mr. Clifton, who, upon observing the Major, instantly put a violent constraint upon himself, and became the broadfaced, rosy, smiling, blue-eyed, debonnair old gentleman, so lavish in the display of his fine teeth, and hearty, cordial words and smiles. Frank was provoked that their conversation was so completely arrested.
“Ah, good-morning,” said Mr. Clifton, addressing the Major. “Been to Hardbargain this morning so early? How are all the folks up there? See, Archer? Why didn’t he walk with you? Eh? Expected him!”
“I have not been to Hardbargain, sir,” replied the Major, rather morosely.
“Been out taking a morning stroll then, eh? Fine appetite for breakfast, no doubt. And it is waiting for us, too. Come, Frank, let’s turn about.”
They did so. Frank now noticed for the first time that the manner of the old gentleman was conciliating, while that of the Major was surly.
They soon reached the house, and the breakfast-room, where the ladies were awaiting their arrival.