“He has not come,” she said, and Alice replied, “I tell you he has. There—there, don’t you hear?” and Marian’s heart gave one great bound as she, too, heard the well known footstep upon the threshold and Frederick speaking to his favorite Dud, who had run to meet “his mars,” asking for sugar-plums from New Orleans.
There had been a change in the time-table, and Frederic did not reach Frankfort until after the train he intended to take had gone. His first thought was to remain in the city, and wait for the next train from Lexington. Accordingly he gave his parting directions to Phil, who being in no haste to return, loitered away the morning and a portion of the afternoon before he turned his horses homeward. As he was riding up the long hill which leads from Frankfort into the country beyond, he unexpectedly met his master, who had been to the cemetery, and was just returning to the Capitol Hotel.
All the day Frederic had thought of Marian Grey, and with each thought it had seemed to him more and more that he must see her again, if only to hear her say that she would wait all time for him, and when he came upon Phil, who he supposed was long ere this at Redstone Hall, his resolution was taken, and instead of the reproof he knew he merited, Phil was surprised at hearing his master say, as he made a motion for him to stop:
“Phil, I am going home.”
And thus it was that he returned again to Redstone Hall, where his coming was hailed with eager joy by Marian and Alice, and created much surprise among the servants.
“My ’pinion he’s a little out of his head,” was all the satisfaction Phil could give, as he drove the carriage to the barn, while Frederic, half repenting of his rashness in returning, and wondering what good excuse he could render, went to his own room—the one formerly occupied by his father—where he sat before the glowing grate, when Alice appeared, covered with shawls, and her face all aglow with her excitement.
She would not be kept back another moment, lest he should go off again, so Marian had wrapped her up and sent her on her mission. Frederic sat with his face turned toward the fire, and though by the step he knew who it was that entered the door, he did not turn his head or evince the least knowledge of her presence until she stood before him, and said, inquiringly:
“Frederic, are you here?”
“Yes;” was the answer, rather curtly spoken, for he would rather be alone.
“Frederic!” and the bundle of shawls trembled violently. “I have come to tell you something about Marian.”