"That is right, change the subject. Here is one of the many you addressed who knows how late it is." She was half-way up the stairs before the others appeared in the hall. Leaning over the banister, she called back, laughingly:
"Talking does make one hungry, Harold; no wonder you mentioned tea. How you have talked."
CHAPTER III.
THE ADVENT OF RALPH AND A REJECTED PROPOSAL.
There appeared to be a tacit understanding between the Tracys and Adelina that there should be no further mention of the advent of Ralph Bamford. Adelina knew that he was coming soon; that was all. From her nonchalant manner none could descry her real interest in the affair. Harold and Mary were not deceived, however, by any outward calmness. Too well did they know the young girl not to be cognizant of her deep capacity for feeling, even though there was no reason for emotion other than that of sympathy, that sympathy which would have been rendered to any to whom it was requisite or welcome.
A few days following the conversation last related, Adelina was walking on the lawn, when through the shrubbery she espied a carriage which had stopped just outside the drive. From the carriage a tall man first alighted, and paused to wait for a second person to issue from the interior. The former was soon joined by one who was clearly a much younger man, though even from Adelina's point of view, it could be seen that he was not as agile as his senior. "Ralph," the young girl gasped, then added, "yes, it is he." Suddenly she felt the most unreasoning dread of being discovered, not only by the newcomers, but by anyone, for that matter. It was natural that she should wish her presence to escape Ralph's observation until a more opportune time, fearing the result of such a recognition would be of the greatest detriment to him physically, mentally, she did not even allow herself to think. It was strange how immediate was Adelina's recognition of the young man—not, as was afterwards learned, that he had suffered in looks—but a failure to recognize him at that distance would have been most natural, despite the knowledge of his near arrival. Now that he had come, her first and only impulse was to put as much space as possible between him and herself. She ran until she reached a rustic seat, where she sank breathless, laughing at her absurd timidity—that trait not being a dominant characteristic. Ere long she saw a young man emerging from one of the summer houses. He seemed to be engaged in a fruitless search. When he in turn discovered Adelina, a glad look of triumph followed.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said, quickly finding a place beside her.
"Where did you expect to find me? Under the seats of the summer house, most likely," Adelina retorted.
"I think I've looked everywhere, as I said."