“Yes, and she received it exactly as I had expected she would. She is not at all the style of girl I looked for, Craven, and it is fortunate for our plans that she cared so much for her father.”
While the conspirators were thus conversing, Rufus crossed the lawn and entered the park by a small gate. The wide avenue, a fine carriage drive, was readily found, and Rufus walked for some distance upon it, keeping a vigilant look-out for Miss Wynde. He was beginning to meditate upon a return to the house without the young lady, when a flutter of white garments among the dusky shadows of a side path caught his gaze. He plunged into the path without hesitation, and presently overtook the wearer of the garments, who was of course Miss Wynde.
Hearing his swift approach, she halted and turned her face toward him. Rufus also halted, strangely embarrassed under her brave full glance. She had laid aside her mourning garments, and wore rose-colored ribbons and a profusion of frills and puffs and lace, in which she looked very fair and dainty and sweet. Her wine-brown eyes were all aglow, but her cheeks were pale, and her face was very grave, even to sadness.
“I beg your pardon,” said Rufus awkwardly, raising his hat. “I am looking for Miss Wynde.”
“I am Miss Wynde,” said Neva, with gentle courtesy.
The young man’s embarrassment was not lessened by this announcement.
“Lady Wynde sent me to look for you,” he declared. “I—I am Rufus Black!”
Neva started and looked at him with her grave, serious eyes. He appeared to advantage in his new garments, and his face was pale and worn by the day’s dissipation. His sorrows and his sickness had given him a refined look to which he was not fully and fairly entitled, and his eyes met hers frankly and honestly, with a real admiration in their gaze.
Neva’s cheeks flushed slightly, and her heart fluttered. Clearly Rufus Black had not made an unfavorable impression upon her in that first glance.
They turned and walked slowly up the path together, entering the avenue. Rufus tried to conquer his unwonted awkwardness, and singularly impressed with Neva’s beauty, exerted himself to please her. They sauntered on, stopping now and then to gather ferns or flowers, and when they emerged from the park upon the lawn, they were chatting gayly, and on the best of terms with each other.