Beatrice knew perfectly well what Josephine meant, and answered that she had heard the judge was very particular, and would resent a marriage which he thought beneath his son, “but if the woman was good, and true, and pure, and did her best, I think it would all be well in time,” she added, as an encouragement to this girl in whom she was trying to believe; and Josephine continued:
“He used to speak of a little girl, Rosamond, I think, was the name. She must be well grown by this time. Is she there now?”
“You mean Rossie Hastings, his adopted sister. Yes, she is there still, and a very nice, womanly little thing. She is sixteen, I believe, though she seems to me younger,” Beatrice said, and the impression left on Josephine’s mind of Rossie was of a child, in whom Everard could not be greatly interested except in a brotherly way.
She had made all the inquiries she cared to make just then, lest she should excite suspicion in Beatrice, and was meditating a retreat, when the sound of rapid wheels reached them, and a moment after a tall, slender young man, not over twenty, came down the walk flourishing his little cane and showing plainly the half-fledged boy, who was beginning to feel all the independence and superiority of a man. Bowing very low to Beatrice, to whom he was introduced as Mr. Gerard from Albany, he told Josephine he had come to ask her to drive after his fast horse. “You were at church all the morning, and deserve a little recreation,” he said, as he saw signs of refusal in Josey, who, sure that Miss Belknap would not accept a like invitation felt that she, too, must refuse; so she said very sweetly and a little reprovingly:
“Thank you, Mr. Gerard, but I do not often ride on Sunday. Some other day I shall be happy to go with you, for I dote on fast horses, but now you must excuse me.”
Young Gerard was surprised, for he had not expected to find conscientious scruples in the girl who the previous night, had played euchre with him until half-past eleven, and then stood another half hour at the gate, laughing and flirting with him, though she had met him but once before.
He was not accustomed to be thwarted, and he showed that he was annoyed, and answered loftily:
“Certainly, do as you think best. If you won’t ride with me, I must find somebody who will. I wish you good-afternoon, ladies.”
Touching his hat very politely he walked away; but Josephine could not let him go in this mood. He was her latest conquest, and she arose and followed him, and walked with him to the gate, and said to him apologetically:
“I want to go awfully, but it will never do with a missionary’s family in the house.”