“Oh! not at all,” said Walter, himself too free of speech to be offended by that quality in another.
“Perhaps you will excuse the curiosity of a stranger,” continued the black horseman. “I have been only a short time resident in this part of the country; and one is naturally curious to know something of one’s neighbours. If you promise not to be offended, I shall make bold to ask you another question.”
“I shall not be offended at any question one gentleman may ask of another. You are a gentleman, sir?”
“I have been brought up as one; and, though I have parted with, or rather been deprived of, the fortune that attaches to such a title, I hope I have not forfeited the character. The question I am about to put, may appear rather trivial after so elaborate an introduction. I merely wished to ask, whether you are the only member of your father’s family?”
“Oh! dear no,” frankly responded the youth; “I have a sister—sister Marion.”
“Grown up, like yourself?”
“She should be by this. She wasn’t quite grown, when I saw her last; but that will be three years come Christmas. She’s older than I; and, i’faith I shouldn’t wonder if she be taller too. I’ve heard say she’s a great, big girl—nearly the head taller than Lora.”
“Lora?”
“Lora Lovelace—my cousin, sir.”
“’Tis his sister—’tis Marion. I thought as much. Marion Wade! A noble name. It has a bold clarion sound—in keeping with the character of her who bears it. Marion! Now know I the name of her who for weeks I have been worshipping! Who for weeks—”