"I do not know him then!" said Richard, emphatically. "Now I think of it, the red head's name may have been Ashton. Say eleven o'clock,"—to Ida—"it will be pleasantly warm then."
"It will suit me," she rejoined, trembling before his gaze.
He was punctual to the hour. Mr. Read hobbled to the door to admire his "turn-out." To him, Richard was lively and friendly as usual, but he refused his sister's invitation to come in, and his bow, as his horse sprang off at the loosened rein, was to him. They left the city by the shortest route. Beyond the houses, Richard slackened their headlong speed.
"Miss Ross!" he said, abruptly facing her, "I have classed you among the limited number of your sex, who are upright and truthful. Within twelve hours past, I have doubted you. You are under no personal obligations to answer my questions;—but as a brother—for the honor of my family, I demand of you, all that you know of this Ashlin."
"Which is very little. I never saw him until Mr. Cranleigh's marriage, when he was introduced to me at Mrs. Morris'."
"By whom? by Helen?"
"By Mrs. Morris, herself. He made a party call, and has continued to visit the house."
"Artful as ever!" he said, through his shut teeth. "Does Mrs. Read see him?"
"Yes; and Mr. Read."
"The old blinkard! Does Helen receive him as your friend or as hers?"