“How insulting—how severe and unforgiving,” murmured William. “How could she fancy it possible that I could accept the insult of her gift?”
With a swelling heart he turned to another part of the paper, and tried to read. But the odious serpent coiled and hissing at him from its little tabulated compartment, was too near, and he could think of nothing else.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE LORD OF BURLEIGH
One morning at breakfast, the Kincton letters having arrived, Miss Clara, who had only one, tossed it carelessly to her mamma, who, having just closed one of her own, asked—
“Who is it?”
“Vane; he’s coming here he says on Thursday, instead of Wednesday,” answered the young lady.
“Cool young gentleman!” observed Mrs. Kincton Knox. “He ought to know that people don’t invite themselves to Kincton—any news?”