“Quite true, my dear youth!—but how am I to explain matters to others?”
“Oh! just say she’s going to be a bridesmaid to my sister, and we want to talk about her dress.”
Mrs. Gwinn laughed.
“Well! I suppose I am overruled by that wonderful argument—but, Gwendoline!” and she called her daughter to her side, as Maury went to order his team—“be at home on time; remember your engagement with Col. Coutell.”
“I will be there at the appointed hour,” murmured the girl, looking through the gloom. She went with her mother to bid their hostess adieu; and, leaving her to accompany some friends home, she put her hand in Maury’s and got into the buggy that awaited her.
There were two exits to the grounds, and through that nearest to the city the carriages and other conveyances were driving.
“Go out by the lower gate,” said Gwendoline; “I have something to show you.”
Quite willing to take the longer route, Maury turned his horses’ heads and softly trotted them down the rather lonely drive. It became very lonely ere they reached the end; the overhanging boughs touched their cheeks as they drove along this disused pathway. The lights shone in the distance, and the dying strains of the band were faintly heard as they drew up at the gate.
“Stop!” said the lady beside him; “let me open it!” and, before he could prevent her, she had sprung lightly from the vehicle.
She stood for a moment, looking at him in the imperfect light.