“I will make another effort to have him share our home at ‘My Lady’s Manor’,” said Mr. Courtney. “Your persuasion will, I think, prevail.”
“Our home!” Hilda’s heart thrilled at the sweet words. An orphan, homeless, save for the goodness of dear friends, she was now the promised wife of one who would protect and care for her as long as life was granted, one whom she could truly love and honor for his noble, tender and steadfast nature. How could she ever be grateful enough to God for His goodness to her?
“This is one of Archie’s homes; Archie will stay till morning,” and, passing into the kitchen, the old man, without so much as a word to the occupants thereof, went up to his room, leaving Norah and Perry amazed at his sudden appearance.
With a look of supreme content Mr. Courtney took a chair beside the center-table whereupon lay the book which Hilda had been reading. His glance fell upon the letter lying beside it and a look of pain crossed his handsome features.
“It is only a valentine,” said Hilda. “Will you read it?” and she gave it into his hands.
“This is from young Mr. Warfield, I suppose?” he commented with a smile as he finished the closing lines.
“Yes, it is from Cousin Fred, and I suppose it is my duty to tell you that he once asked me to be his wife.”
“You loved him, of course,” said Mr. Courtney, a little anxiously.
“I will tell you, sir, exactly as it was,” she replied, with the straightforward look and manner of one who had nothing to conceal. “The girls told me that Fred is fickle, and they did not believe that he could really love anyone. When he told me of his affection for me, I knew it was what he had said to every girl with whom he was well acquainted, so did not believe him sincere. He wished to correspond with me, and through his letters I began to have a warmer affection for him, and was disappointed when they began to grow cold, or failed to come when expected. It ended by his writing, releasing himself from the engagement.”
“And you were grieved, my darling?”