"I have two letters for you," he continued; "one from your brother, and one from J.C."
"From J.C.!" she repeated. "Has he gone back? Why didn't he call on me?"
"He's a villain," thought James De Vere, but he answered simply, "He had not time, and so wrote you instead," and sitting down beside her he regarded her with a look in which pity, admiration, and love were all blended—the former predominating at that moment, and causing him to lay his hand caressingly on her forehead, saying as he did so, "Your head aches, don't it, Maude?"
Maude's heart was already full, and at this little act of sympathy she burst into tears, while James, drawing her to his side and resting her head upon his bosom, soothed her as he would have done had she been his only sister. He fancied that he knew the cause of her grief, and his heart swelled with indignation toward J.C., who had that day shown himself unworthy of a girl like Maude. He had come to Hampton without any definite idea as to whether he should see her or not ere his return, but when, as the omnibus drew near the schoolhouse and Maude was plainly visible through the open window, one of the ladies made some slighting remark concerning school-teachers generally, he determined not to hazard an interview, and quieted his conscience by thinking he would come out in a few days and make the matter right. How then was he chagrined when in the presence of his companions his cousin said: "Shall I send for Miss Remington? She can dismiss her school earlier than usual and come up to tea."
"Dismiss her school!" cried one of the young ladies, while the other, the proud Miss Thayer, whose grandfather was a pedlar and whose great-uncle had been hanged, exclaimed, "Miss Remington! Pray who is she? That schoolmistress we saw in passing? Really, Mr. De Vere, you have been careful not to tell us of this new acquaintance. Where did you pick her up?" and the diamonds on her fingers shone brightly in the sunshine as she playfully pulled a lock of J.C.'s hair. The disconcerted J.C. was about stammering out some reply when James, astonished both at the apparent ignorance of his guests and the strangeness of his cousin's manner, answered for him, "Miss Remington is our teacher, and a splendid girl. J.C. became acquainted with her last summer at Laurel Hill. She is a stepsister of Miss Kennedy, whom you probably know."
"Nellie, Kennedy's stepsister. I never knew there was such a being," said Miss Thayer, while young Robinson, a lisping, insipid dandy, drawled out, "A sthool-marm, J. Thee? I'th really romantic! Thend for her, of courth. A little dithipline won't hurt any of uth."
J.C. made a faint effort to rally, but they joked him so hard that he remained silent, while James regarded him with a look of cool contempt sufficiently indicative of his opinion.
At last when Miss Thayer asked "if the bridal day were fixed," he roused himself, and thinking if he told the truth he should effectually deceive them, he answered, "Yes, next Christmas is the time appointed. We were to have been married in June, but the lady lost her fortune and the marriage was deferred."
"Oh, teaching to purchase her bridal trousseau. I'm dying to see it," laughingly replied Miss Thayer, while another rejoined, "Lost her fortune. Was she then an heiress?"
"Yes, a milkman's heiress," said J.C., with a slightly scornful emphasis on the name which he himself had given to Maude at a time when a milkman's money seemed as valuable to him as that of any other man.