"And you are Eleanor!" returned the sister of Randolph.
"We shall love each other very much," said Eleanor,—"Come, let us talk a little."
They went hand in hand to a recess near the window, and sat down together, leaving Randolph and Mr. Lynn alone, near the center of the drawing-room.
"Do you know, my boy, that I have a notion to make your house our home, while we remain in New York? I hate the noise of a hotel, and so using a traveler's privilege, of bluntness, I'll invite myself and Eleanor to be your guests. I have letters to the 'first people' of the city, but these 'first people,' as they are called, are pretty much the same everywhere—cut out of the same piece of cloth, all over the world—they tire one dreadfully. If you have no objection, my friend, we'll stay with you for a few days at least."
"Of course," Randolph replied to Mr. Lynn in the warmest and most courteous manner, concluding with the words, "Esther and myself will be too happy to have you for our guests. Make our house your home while you remain in New York, and—" he was about to add "forever!"
Mr. Lynn took him warmly by the hand.
"And in a few days, he must learn that I am not the legitimate son of my father, but his slave," the thought crossed him as he shook the hand of Eleanor's father. "This Aladdin's palace will crumble into ashes, and this gentleman who now respects me, will turn away in derision from Randolph, the slave."
It was a horrible thought.
At this moment Mr. Hicks entered, and announced that dinner was ready. They left the room, Randolph with Eleanor on his arm, and Mr. Lynn with Esther, and bent their steps toward the dining-room. On the threshold Mr. Hicks slipped a letter in the hand of Esther, "It was left for you, Miss, half an hour ago," he said, and made one of his mechanical bows. Esther took the letter and placed it in her bosom, and Mr. Hicks threw open the door of the dining-room.
Randolph could scarce repress an ejaculation of wonder, as (for the first time) he beheld this apartment.