“Well! this is hardly the time and place to discuss such a question,” said Captain Hill, “but I should much like to see more of you, Miss Wynward! If you have any time at your disposal, will you come over and see my old mother? She is quite confined to her room, but I know it would please her to have a quiet talk with you!”
A light glistened in Miss Wynward’s washed-out eyes, and a smile stole over her countenance.
“Do you really mean it, Captain Hill?”
“I never say anything that I do not mean,” he answered, “I am sure both my parents would be glad to give you their advice, and my dear father, who is a clergyman, though past an active ministry, may be able to be of use to you in a more practical way. At anyrate, you will come and see us. That is a bargain!” and he held out his hand to her again in farewell.
“O! I will—I will, indeed,” exclaimed Miss Wynward, gratefully, “and thank you so very much for the permission. You have put a little hope into my life!”
She seized the hand he proffered her, and kissed it, as an inferior might have done, and then hurried back to the Red House, before he had had time to remonstrate with her on the proceeding.
CHAPTER XIII.
When Anthony Pennell received the Baroness’s invitation, penned in the delicate foreign handwriting of Harriet Brandt, he accepted it at once. Being out of the season, he had no engagement for that evening, but he would have broken twenty engagements, sooner than miss the chance, so unexpectedly offered him, of meeting in an intimate family circle, the girl who appeared to have led his cousin Ralph’s fancy astray. He pictured her to himself as a whitey-brown young woman with thick lips and rolling eyes, and how Ralph, who was so daintily particular where the beau sexe was concerned, could have been attracted by such a specimen, puzzled Anthony altogether. The knowledge that she had money struck him unpleasantly, for he could think of no other motive for Captain Pullen having philandered with her, as he evidently had done. At anyrate, the idea that there was the least chance of allying herself with their family, must be put out of her head, at once and for ever.
Mr. Pennell amused himself with thinking of the scare he should create at the dinner table, by “springing” the news of Ralph’s intended marriage upon them, all at once. Would the young lady have hysterics, he wondered, or faint away, or burst into a passion of tears? He laughed inwardly at the probability! He felt very cruel over it! He had no pity for the poor quadroon, as Doctor Phillips had called her. It was better that she should suffer, than that Elinor Leyton should have to break off her engagement. And, by Margaret Pullen’s account, Miss Brandt had been both defiant and insulting to Miss Leyton. She must be a brazen, unfeeling sort of girl—it was meet that she paid the penalty of her foolhardiness.
It was in such a mood that Anthony Pennell arrived at the Red House at five o’clock in the afternoon, that he might have the opportunity to inspect the collection of china that had gained him an entrance there.