The House of de Mailly

by Margaret Horton Potter

"I, certainly, shall not remain to witness this scene."

"Gentlemen, excuse me for one instant. I will summon my sister."

Vincent left the room; but, in spite of herself, his mother stayed. She was too deeply interested to go; and, despite her traditions, Lucy's happiness was really quite as dear to her as to her son. Claude, from behind the others, philosophized a little in the silence. How differently had such a scene been conducted in his country! There would have been no argument, no difficulty. Above all, Lucy herself would have been the last person to be consulted. Rockwell, for his means and position, would certainly have been chosen; and, if it were a Court affair, Whitney might have become her general escort afterwards. Claude sighed. This colonial boorishness produced far better results. Ethics here were regarded with some degree of blind appreciation. In his own country it was not so. A second sigh was in his heart when Lucy, preceded by her brother, re-entered the room.

There was still perfect silence. Near the doorway the young girl paused. She was pale and red-eyed, but steady of manner. The two clergymen, side by side, faced her, with Vincent to the right, and his mother upon the left. Claude, quite forgotten, still looked on from the opposite wall.

"Lucy, I have brought you back here that you yourself may make choice between these men. Let me now, then, entreat you, most earnestly, to consider, to decide not hastily, but as in heart and mind you deem wisest. Love is not always all. Respect—firmness—wisdom—ability to protect—these are as strong. I place confidence in you, Lucy; and, in return, I ask sincerity from you. We will wait as long as you will. Choose."

During his words Lucy had looked earnestly at her brother. Now, however, her eyes fell. A delicate smile broke over her face, and when finally she looked up it was to encounter the eyes of John Whitney, who was regarding her with a look of such mingled love, fear, and longing, that she would not torture him by suspense. Gently she extended one hand, one arm to him, while her lips smiled "Come," and her face grew beautiful with the love-light in it.

He went, never heeding the rest, no longer aware, perhaps, that they were by. And, as he clasped her in his strong, young, Puritan arms, Claude looked courteously out o' window, but Madam Trevor, with a curious dryness in her throat, turned suddenly away.

As to Rockwell, he left the house very quietly, with just what feeling in his heart no one ever knew.

Then Vincent, all at once perceiving Claude, and remembering his pink satin errand, took him quietly by the arm, and led him into the parlor, Madam Trevor following them. The three sat down in the stiff little apartment, the closed door shutting the two in the hall from their sight. Claude's hour of patience was ended. His time had come now, and he was astonished to find himself nervous.

"I must, sir, crave your indulgence for my seeming discourtesy in keeping you waiting so long. However, as you have been a witness of the affair which detained me, you may perhaps be lenient with my rudeness."