“A word! My dear sir, my entire vocabulary is at your service in an affair of the heart.” The Judge beamed on Delaven and bowed to Madame Caron as though including her in the circle where Love’s sceptre is ever potent.
“Faith, when America becomes a monarchy, I’ll vote for you to be king,” and Delaven grasped the hand of the Judge and shook it heartily; “and if you can only convince Mrs. McVeigh that I am all your fancy has pictured me, I’ll be the happiest man in Carolina tonight.”
“What!” Judge Clarkson dropped his hand as though it had burned him, and fairly glared at the self-confessed lover.
“I would that!––the happiest man in Carolina, barring none,” said the reckless Irishman, so alive with his own hopes that he failed to perceive the consternation in the face of the Judge; but Judithe saw it, and, divining the cause, laughed softly, while Delaven continued: “You see, Judge, Mrs. McVeigh will listen to you and––”
“Young man!” began Clarkson, austerely, but at that moment the lady in question appeared on the veranda and waved her fan to Delaven.
“Doctor, as a dancing man your presence in the house would be most welcome,” she said, coming slowly down the steps towards them.
“Madame, both my feet and my heart are at your disposal,” he said, hastening to meet her, and passing on to find some unpartnered damsels she suggested.
“What a charming young man he is,” remarked their hostess, “and exceedingly skillful in his profession for so young a physician. Don’t you consider him very bright, Judge?”
“I, Madame––I?” and Judithe retired, convulsed at the situation; “on my word, I wouldn’t trust him to doctor a sick cat!” Mrs. McVeigh looked astonished at the intensity of his words and was fairly puzzled to see Judithe laughing on the seat under the tree.