And every one said over once more what they had already said so often—that it was a great pity the daughter of the late Governor Cavendish should be allowed to throw herself and her wealth away upon a penniless young fortune-hunter like Alden Lytton, and all for the want of a proper guardian at hand to restrain her. Old Madam Cavendish, they said, was no better than none at all. And really the Orphans' Court ought to interfere, etc.
But the very bitterest of the malcontents were parents with marriageable sons of their own, any one of which might one day have aspired to the hand of the heiress.
Little cared the happy lovers what their neighbors might think about their betrothal.
They parted that morning, not with tears, but with bright smiles and promises of frequent correspondence.
Alden Lytton stopped in Wendover to take leave of his friend, Mr. Lyle, and to announce the betrothal of Miss Cavendish and himself.
And then, scarcely waiting to receive the congratulations of the minister, he hurried off to catch his train for Richmond.
An hour after this Mr. Lyle had an interview with Victor Hartman, and delighted that poor fellow's soul with the announcement of the betrothal.
And on the same day Mr. Lyle, commissioned by Victor Hartman, went to Blue Cliff Hall and requested an interview with Madam Cavendish.
The old lady, thinking this was the usual pastoral call from the minister, sent word for him to come up to her room.
And there she received him alone, and after the usual greetings opened the conversation herself by informing him of the betrothal of her granddaughter to Mr. Alden Lytton.