“And you’ll do just as Fanny says, won’t you, dear?” said she, even more caressingly.
“Yes, I will, I promise,” answered Alfred.
“You may kiss me, dear,” said Fanny, leaning toward him, so that the operation need not disarrange her toilet.
Alfred Dinks kept his word; and his mother was perfectly willing to do as she was asked. She smiled with intelligence whenever she saw her son and his cousin together, and remarked that Hope Wayne’s demeanor did not in the least betray the engagement. And she smiled with the same intelligence when she remarked how devoted Alfred was to Fanny Newt.
“Can it possibly be that Alfred knows so much?” she asked herself, wondering at the long time during which her son’s cunning had lain dormant.
CHAPTER XXVI. — THE PORTRAIT AND THE MINIATURE.
The golden days of September glimmered through the dark sighing trees, and relieved the white brightness that had burned upon the hills during the dog-days. Mr. Burt drove into town and drove out. Dr. Peewee called at short intervals, played backgammon with his parishioner, listened to his stories, told stories of his own, and joined him in his little excursions to the West Indies. Mrs. Simcoe was entirely alone.
One day Hiram brought her a letter, which she took to her own room and sat down by the window to read.