“Ay, Frank Fordham, with all my heart,” cried Herman Mordaunt. “I hope he will return to his native country as straight-forward, honest, and good as he left it.”
“Mr. Fordham is then abroad?” inquired Bulstrode. “I thought the name new to me.”
“If being at home can be called being abroad. He is reading law at the Temple.”
This was the answer of Mary Wallace, who looked as if she felt a friendly interest in the young Templar, but no more. She now called on Dirck for his lady. Throughout the whole of that day, Dirck's voice had hardly been heard; a reserve that comported well enough with his youth and established diffidence. This appeal, however, seemed suddenly to arouse all that there was of manhood in him; and that was not a little, I can tell the reader, when there was occasion to use it. Dirck's nature was honesty itself; and he felt that the appeal was too direct, and the occasion too serious, to admit of duplicity. He loved but one, esteemed but one, felt for one only; and it was not in his nature to cover his preference by any attempt at deception. After colouring to the ears, appearing distressed, he made an effort, and pronounced the name of—“Anneke Mordaunt.”
A common laugh rewarded this blunder; common with all but the fair creature who had extorted this involuntary tribute, and myself, who knew Dirck's character too well not to understand how very much he must be in earnest thus to lay bare the most cherished secret of his heart. The mirth continued some time, Herman Mordaunt appearing to be particularly pleased, and applauding his kinsman's directness with several 'bravos' very distinctly uttered. As for Anneke, I saw she looked touched, while she looked concerned, and as if she would be glad to have the thing undone.
“After all, Dirck, much as I admire your spirit and plain dealing, boy,” cried Herman Mordaunt, “Miss Wallace can never let such a toast pass. She will insist on having another.”
“I!—I protest I am well pleased with it, and ask for no other,” exclaimed the lady in question. “No toast can be more agreeable to me than Anneke Mordaunt, and I particularly like the quarter from which this comes.”
“If friends can be trusted in a matter of this nature,” put in Bulstrode, with a little pique, “Mr. Follock has every reason to be contented. Had I known, however, that the customs of New York allowed a lady who is present to be toasted, that gentleman would not have had the merit of being the first to make this discovery.”
“Nor is it,” said Herman Mordaunt; “and Dirck must hunt up another to supply my daughter's place.”
But no other was forthcoming from the stores of Dirck Follock's mind. Had he a dozen names in reserve, not one of them would he have produced under circumstances that might seem like denying his allegiance to the girl already given; but he could not name any other female. So, after some trifling, the company attributing Dirck's hesitation to his youth and ignorance of the world, abandoned the attempt, desiring him to call on Anneke herself for a toast in turn.