"Did they dare to force you?" exclaimed Louis, with a kindling eye. "If so——"
"No, no, Louis; I could have refused if I would. Don't mention this subject more. See, there is the old hall; and there at the gate stands Minnette Wiseman, my daughter now, you know. Is she not a beautiful girl?"
"Beautiful indeed!" exclaimed Louis, enthusiastically, pausing involuntarily to gaze upon her.
Splendid indeed looked Minnette. Her dress of black (she always wore black) fluttering in the morning breeze, and confined at the slender waist by a dark crimson belt. Her long, shiny blue-black hair was twined in classic braids around her superb head. Her glorious black eyes were fixed on the glancing waters of the bay, and no June rose ever bloomed a more brilliant crimson than the hue of her cheek. She might have been an Eastern queen—for her beauty was truly regal, with her dark, oriental face, and splendid Syrian eye; but there was too much fire and passion in her nature, and too few womanly traits and feelings.
"Oh, Minnette, guess who's come!" cried Gipsy, riding up to where she stood.
"Who?" said Minnette, breathlessly, as her eye fell on Louis.
The next moment she started convulsively; the blood rushed in torrents to her brow. She had recognized him, though Gipsy had not.
"It's Louis," said Gipsy—"Louis Oranmore! Come, Louis! come! Miss Minnette. I am going up to the house to tell them you have come."
She was off like a flash, up the lawn, and in the house, while Louis leaped from his horse, and with courtly grace raised Minnette's hand to his lips; while she, pressing her hand to her heart, that beat and throbbed as though it would force its way to him, strove to return his salutation. It was a strange thing to see the cold, marble-like Minnette so moved.
"How everything has changed since I left home!" said Louis; "the place itself seems changed, and you more than all. I left you a little girl, thoughtful beyond your years, and I return to find you——"