“No, no!” exclaimed Jared. “Haven’t we seen the honours you have won.”
“I have little to offer,” continued Harry, “but the true love of an honest man; but it is so true, so unselfish a love, that I blush not to offer it here in your father’s presence. But I have much to learn from you, for I tremble—this is not the welcome I had hoped to receive. You shrank from me almost with coldness, though you know that from our first meeting I have loved you. Mine may be a simple love, but I offer you a heart that never gave thought to another. But still I would not press you for that which was not yours to give. Tell me that you are not free in thought, and I will say no more.”
There was a few moments’ pause, during which Jared fiercely stroked his cheek, and then thrust his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders almost up to his ears, à la Canau,—but, though Patty essayed to speak, her words were inaudible, as she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
Treading upon tip-toe as if he were amongst pedal-keys, Jared softly left the room, and for the next few minutes, Harry, grown eloquent with affection, pleaded his cause earnestly, till Janet glided in, looking curiously from one to the other.
“Ah, Janet!” exclaimed Harry, catching her hands in his, “you know how I have loved her from the first. You will speak for me, will you not?”
“No; why should I?” said Janet, coldly, as she turned from him to Patty, taking her to her breast in a motherly fashion, as if to protect her. “She is rich now, and you are proud to know her; but look back at when she was poor. You were ashamed to know her then before your fine friends. And then look at your cruel suspicions. Do you think I could not read them all? I have told her a hundred times over that yours was but a passing fancy—that you saw her pretty face, and liked it, and—and that was all.”
“I was weak and unjust, I know,” said Harry; “but have I not tried to expiate my sin? But why do you speak of a passing fancy? What do you mean? How can you be so unjust? Are there to be fresh riddles now?”
“Why should you trouble her when you are promised to some one else?” cried Janet, fiercely, as she turned upon him, holding Patty to her breast the while, and stroking her luxuriant hair.
“I! Promised to some one else?” exclaimed Harry. “Well, yes,” he added, gloomily. “I suppose it is to be so—to Alma Mater—to my studies.”
“Hush, Patty. No; I will not be silent,” cried Janet, excitedly; for Patty had turned imploringly to her. “I will speak to him—I will not be silent. Have you,” she exclaimed to Harry, “have you forgotten your stay in Essex, at a pleasant house with a lawn in front, stretching down to the road?”