He felt intuitively that this must be the aunt of whom Hildegarde was always speaking. Even before he heard the hurried words of introduction, the young man held out his hand with a cordial smile.
"I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Fernly," he said. "I have heard Hildegarde speak of you so much that I feel as if I really knew and loved you already."
Was it only his fancy, or was the greeting of Hildegarde's aunt a trifle chilly?
"You are to accompany my aunt to her home," said his fiancée; adding, with a little twinkle in her eye: "Auntie has something to say to you."
For a moment he looked crestfallen; then he added, gallantly:
"I shall be most pleased. Pray command me, Miss Fernly."
Another moment, and they were seated in the carriage. He began to talk brightly to his companion; but to his great surprise, she answered him only in monosyllables.
"I am very much afraid she does not like me," he thought, with some consternation, and he redoubled his efforts to be agreeable. Any one who was related in any way to his darling Hildegarde was dear to him. He was always liked by women; he hoped from the depths of his heart that this lady would not form an aversion to him. But somehow he felt a cold, uncomfortable chill creeping over his heart. Was it a premonition of the evil that was so soon to come?