“I have not the least belief in gypsies or in fortune telling, but I am glad you are here. Now we will go to the tea table.”
With an arm about his mother’s waist, Paul led the way, and Fred, with a radiant smile of pleasure, offered his arm to Hilda, who accepted with a smile and blush.
If Mrs. Warfield allowed herself to be proud of anything, it was of her sons, and not without reason. They were sensible, well educated, attentive to business, and honorable in their dealings, and mothers with marriageable daughters could not forbear pointing out, or at least alluding to the excellence of these damsels when in the society of Sarah Warfield.
If it be true that happy people have no history, then nothing could have been recorded of Fred Warfield, for Mother Destiny had willed that his pathway from babyhood should lie in sunshine, never in shadow. He had experienced but few disappointments and fewer trials to dampen his exuberant spirits; but light, almost trifling as he was in manner, his intimates knew that beneath it all was a warm, affectionate nature, a steadfast love for what was good, and a wish to help others to enjoy life, as he undoubtedly did.
That he was captivated by every new face and fickle in his attachments was known to all who were acquainted with him, but they looked upon it as no more than might be expected of a handsome youth who was courted and admired in society, a fault which age and experience would correct.
That evening at the farmhouse was an ideally happy one to him, the only shadow to its brightness being the knowledge that he could not study law in Springfield and at the same time remain under the home roof without attracting attention to the fact that it was because Hilda was there.
Without appearing to notice, Mrs. Warfield took note of Fred’s manner to the young girl, and read his thoughts as accurately as if inscribed upon the page of an open book, and resolved to have a more serious conversation with him than she had ever had in regard to his failing.
If it lay in her power to prevent it, there should be no trifling with the affections of any girl, no blighted happiness laid to the charge of her sons.
“It is really too beautiful this evening to stay indoors,” remarked Fred, when, tea finished, they returned to the parlor. “Mother, I will have Planchette put to the carriage and take you and cousin Hilda for a drive.”
“I would enjoy it, but Hilda will excuse me this evening, as several ladies are coming from the village to help arrange for a fair to be held in the hall there, but that need not prevent you and Hilda from going.”