"I am going to——. No, I dare not tell. Ma and Jule would not approve, and even dear, good papa might censure, if he knew it. Here they come! Julia, Mr. Carlton is waiting to see you."
"Well, David, you have failed! Your countenance is very expressive."
"Even so, sir—Miss Fairleigh not only declined, but I greatly fear she is going to the ball against her parents' wishes. If this be so, I must try to conquer this love. The girl who sets at naught the will of her kind, loving parents—acting secretly against their wishes—would not, I am sure, prove a good wife."
"Well spoken, my son. How about Miss Bland?"
"Of course she is going. We are to call for her."
"A good girl—resigning pleasure to duty. A rare good girl."
"Apparently, so, sir; but, indeed, I am impressed with the idea that there is something hidden about her. She does not seem natural," replied David.
Father and son had just arrived at Mr. Fairleigh's when the door opened to admit a middle-aged, poorly-clad woman. Showing them into the drawing-room, the servant closed the door. Very soon after seating themselves they heard the voice of Miss Bland in a very excited tone.
"My brother! How dare you ask me of him?"
"I dare for my child's sake. She is ill—perhaps dying."