This last argument was more convincing than any which Alice had offered, for Frederic had left the entire management of repairs to one whom he knew understood such matters better than himself, consequently he had not been there at all, and he had several times spoken of going up to see that all was right. Particularly would he wish to do this if he took thither a bride in May, and to Alice’s suggestion he replied, “I might, perhaps, do that for the sake of gratifying you.”
“Oh, if you only would!” answered Alice. “You’ll find her somewhere—I know you will—and then you’ll be so glad you went.”
Frederic was not quite so sure of that, but it was safe to go, and while Isabel had been communicating to her mother what he had been saying to her, and asking if it were not almost a proposal, he was deciding to start for New York immediately. Alice’s reasons for doubting the authenticity of the letter seemed more and more plausible the longer he thought of them, and at supper that night he astonished both Mrs. Huntington and daughter by saying that he was going North in a few days, and he wished the former to see that his wardrobe was in a proper condition for traveling. Isabel’s face grew dark as night, and the wrathful expression of her eyes was noticeable even to him. “There is a good deal of temper there,” was his mental comment, while Isabel feigned some trivial excuse and left the room to hide the anger she knew was visible upon her face. He had commenced proposing to her, she was sure, and he should not leave Redstone Hall until he explained himself more fully. Still it would not be proper for her to broach the subject—her mother must do that. It was a parent’s duty to see that her daughter’s feelings were not trifled with, and by dint of cajolery, entreaties and threats, she induced the old lady to have a talk with Frederic, and ask him what his intentions were.
Mrs. Huntington was not very lucid in her remarks, and without exactly knowing what she meant, Frederic replied at random that he was in earnest in all he had said to Isabel about her remaining there, that he did not wish her to go away for she seemed one of the family, and that he would speak with her further upon the subject when he came back. This was not very definite, but Mrs. Huntington brushed it up a little ere repeating it to Isabel, who readily accepted it as an intimation that after his return, he intended asking her directly to be his wife. Accordingly she told Agnes Gibson confidentially what her expectations were, and Agnes told it confidentially to several others, who had each a confidential friend, and so in course of a few days it was generally understood that Redstone Hall was to have another mistress. Agnes in particular was very busy disseminating news, hoping by this means to turn the public gossip from herself and the white-haired man, or rather the plantation in Florida, which she was soon to marry. In spite of her protestations to the contrary people would say that money and not love actuated her choice, and she was glad of anything which would give her a little rest. So she repeated Isabel’s story again and again, charging each and every one never to mention it and consulting between-times with her bosom friend as to what her arrangements were, and suggesting that they be married on the same day and so make the same tour. On the subject of bridal presents Agnes had a kind of mania, and knowing this, some of her friends, who lived at a distance and could not be present at the ceremony, sent theirs in advance—several of them as a matter of course deciding upon the same thing, so that in Agnes’ private drawer there were now deposited three fish knives and forks, all of which were the young lady’s particular aversion. She would dispose of one of them at all hazards, she thought, and receive more than an equivalent in return, so she began to pave the way for a costly bridal present from the future Mrs. Frederic Raymond, by hinting of an elegant fish knife and fork, which in its satin-lined box would look handsomely upon the table, and Isabel, though detesting the article and thinking she should prefer almost anything else, said she was delighted, and when her friend came home from the south, she should invite her to dinner certainly once a week.
This arrangement was generally understood, as were many others of a similar nature, until at last even the bridal dress was selected, and people said it was making in Lexington, where Frederic was well known, and where the story of his supposed engagement circulated rapidly, reaching to the second-rate hotel where Rudolph McVicar was a boarder. Exultingly his wild eyes flashed, and when he heard, as he did, that the wedding was fixed for the 20th of May, which he knew was Isabel’s birthday, he counted the hours which must elapse ere the moment of his triumph came. And while he waited thus, and rumor, with her lying tongue, told each day some fresh falsehood of “that marriage in high life,” Frederic Raymond went on his way, and with each milestone passed, drew nearer and nearer to the lost one—the Marian who would stand between him and Isabel.
CHAPTER XV.
THE HOUSE ON THE RIVER.
“Marian,” said Ben, one pleasant April morning, “Frederic’s house is finished in tip-top style, and if you say so, we’ll go out and take a look. It will do you good to see the old place once more and know just how things are fixed.”
“Oh, I’d like it so much,” returned Marian, “but what if I should fall upon Frederic?”
“No danger,” answered Ben; “the man who has charge of everything told me he wasn’t comin’ till May, and the old woman who is tendin’ to things knows I have seen Mr. Raymond, for I told her so, and she won’t think nothin’; so clap on your clothes in a jiff, for we’ve barely time to reach the cars.”
Marian did not hesitate long ere deciding to go, and in a few moments they were in the street. As they were passing the —— Hotel, Ben suddenly left her, and running up the steps spoke to one of the servants with whom he was acquainted. Returning ere long, he said, by way of apology, “I was in there last night to see Jim, and he told me there was a man took sick with a ravin’ fever, pretty much like you had when you bit your tongue most in two.”