Somehow, as he looked into the lovely, young face, his resentment against one of the sex which he had sworn to hate seemed to be melting away, although he would have scoffed at the idea had any one told him that an interest had sprung up in his heart toward the girl in the first moment they had met.
“Come,” said Lucy, “we will go to the house. We can talk afterward. Mother and dinner await us.”
And as the two girls got beyond the sight and hearing of Mr. Moore, Lucy turned to her companion, saying:
“What do you think of our invalid, as we often laughingly call him when we want to tease him? Do you think him good-looking?”
“He is more than that, Lucy,” returned Jess, gravely. “He is simply splendid! I know of no word which will express it. We have just such a pictured face hanging up in the library of Blackheath Hall, and it is named ‘Apollo Belvidere,’ who is supposed to be the perfection of manly beauty, so the legend runs which tells about him in old books.”
“You have fallen in love with him at first sight!” cried Lucy, in terror, her heart sinking and a stifling sensation creeping up to her throat.
Jess laughed a strange, little laugh. Stopping short in the path, she suddenly threw her arms about Lucy’s neck, saying, with a laugh which was almost a sob:
“I never had a girl friend or a girl companion to make a confidant of in all my life, and I would so love to make a confidant of you, Lucy; may I? There’s something that I would love to tell you, if you would never, never tell—never breathe one word of it to any living soul in the whole wide world.”
“Of course you can make a confidant of me, and tell me all the secrets you have, and I’ll never tell them,” declared Lucy, solemnly. “You can depend upon me. I’ve kept lots of girls’ secrets, and never told one of them yet; I would not be so mean.”
“Well, then, Lucy,” cried Jess, half laughing, half sobbing, “I couldn’t fall in love with your Mr. Moore if I liked him ever so much, for I’m engaged to be married to another gentleman, and—and it’s to take place—the wedding, I mean—just as soon as I come back from the visit to the Trevalyns, of New York. I never intended to tell anybody that I was an engaged girl, but, somehow, Lucy, you have wrung the truth from me in spite of myself, it seems.”