"Oh, because you went to stop at the house, and it was so strange that she should have died on that very night."
"So your mother says," said George, uncomfortably. "I really think she believes that I have something to do with the matter."
"Oh, that's nonsense," said Dorothy, serenely; "but mother does not like you very much, George, and----"
"She hates me you mean."
"Well," responded Miss Ward, candidly, "if you ask me to tell the truth, I think she does. But you know what my mother is. I--no, if I cannot say good of her, let me at least say nothing bad. But I love you, George, you know that."
"My own heart," and Brendon took her in his strong arms, thanking God for the gift of so steadfast a heart. For a few minutes silence reigned, and the lovers looked at one another with fond affection.
Dorothy was tall and slim and dark, with a Spanish face of that delicate, high-bred cast which is seen to perfection among the women of Andalusia. Judging by her large black eyes, and the serious expression of her lips, Dorothy Ward might have had Moorish blood in her veins. Perhaps she had, as one of her father's ancestors, when ambassador to Madrid in the reign of the first James, had brought back with him a Spanish wife. And Dorothy inherited all the Iberian beauty of that lady. She should have been called Inez, or Paquita, for the purely English name of Dorothy suited her badly. That is a milkmaid's name, and Miss Ward was more of the court than of the pasture.
Her dark beauty contrasted well with the fair comeliness of George Brendon, and seated side by side on the sofa they looked an extremely handsome couple. Certainly they might have appeared happier, for Dorothy was downcast, and in Brendon's blue eyes there lurked a worried look. He was wondering how he could communicate Mrs. Ward's decision to the girl. Dorothy looked at him and smiled.
"A penny for your thoughts, George," she said, taking his hand.
"I'll sell them as bankrupt stock," said Brendon, drawing her closer, and then he took his courage in both hands for the necessary confession. "This may be my last visit, Dorothy," he said.