The tender touch and name seemed to rob her of her courage and calmness, for, leaning on her lover, she hid her face and sobbed audibly.
“Now don’t make a scene, for heaven’s sake,” began Coventry impatiently, as his brother eyed him fiercely, divining at once what had passed, for his letter was still in Gerald’s hand and Jean’s last words had reached her lover’s ear.
“Who gave you the right to read that, and to interfere in my affairs?” demanded Edward hotly.
“Miss Muir” was the reply, as Coventry threw away the paper.
“And you add to the insult by ordering her out of the house,” cried Ned with increasing wrath.
“On the contrary, I beg her to remain.”
“The deuce you do! And why?”
“Because she is useful and happy here, and I am unwilling that your folly should rob her of a home which she likes.”
“You are very thoughtful and devoted all at once, but I beg you will not trouble yourself. Jean’s happiness and home will be my care now.”
“My dear boy, do be reasonable. The thing is impossible. Miss Muir sees it herself; she came to tell me, to ask how best to arrange matters without troubling my mother. I’ve been to town to attend to your affairs, and you may be off now very soon.”