"We ought then to send for her," resumed Mr. Effingham, again reaching towards the bell.
"Uncle--" and Grace hurriedly interposed, in time to save the string from being pulled. "Could I keep such an important secret from my dearest cousin!"
"I find that I am the last in the secret, as is generally the case with old fellows, and I believe I am even now de trop."
Mr. Effingham kissed Grace again affectionately, and, although she strenuously endeavoured to detain him, he left the room.
"We must follow," said Grace, hastily wiping her eyes, and rubbing the traces of tears from her cheeks--"Excuse me, Sir George Templemore; will you open----"
He did, though it was not the door, but his arms. Grace seemed like one that was rendered giddy by standing on a precipice, but when she fell, the young baronet was at hand to receive her. Instead of quitting the library that instant, the bell had announced the appearance of the supper-tray, before she remembered that she had so earnestly intended to do so.
Chapter XXI.
"This day, no man thinks
He has business at his house."
KING HENRY VIII.
The warm weather, which was always a little behind that of the lower counties, had now set in among the mountains, and the season had advanced into the first week in July. "Independence Day," as the fourth of that month is termed by the Americans, arrived; and the wits of Templeton were taxed, as usual, in order that the festival might be celebrated with the customary intellectual and moral treat. The morning commenced with a parade of the two or three uniformed companies of the vicinity, much gingerbread and spruce-beer were consumed in the streets, no light potations of whiskey were swallowed in the groceries, and a great variety of drinks, some of which bore very ambitious names, shared the same fate in the taverns.