Mrs. Varian was angry with her—she was sure. How coldly she had looked at her, how reluctantly she had touched her hand with icy fingers!
Mrs. Varian dragged Arthur away with her to her own room, and then the genial host said kindly, in sympathy for the suffering girl:
“I will send a maid to show you to a room to rest, Miss Dawn, while you are waiting for your friends.”
“Oh, I thank you,” she answered, gratefully, desperately glad to be alone.
When she was gone, the minister said, uneasily:
“I do not believe there is any use in my waiting. There will be no marriage if that proud Mrs. Varian can have her own way.”
“You are right,” returned the host. “I could see plainly that she intended to break off the marriage. I believe that she pursued them here, instead of just meeting them by accident, as she pretended. I never heard of such a coincidence. I suppose the girl is poor, as her clothing was plain and cheap, and the mother and son are rich. In fact, I know they are, because the young fellow has stayed here several times before and he throws money about like a young prince.”
“He said that her father had refused him her hand, so he must be a very black sheep, as poor men are usually glad to welcome a rich son-in-law,” said the minister; adding: “I believe I had better go, if you think I shall not be needed. I am sorry for that sweet young girl, for I am sure that proud lady will show her no mercy.”
“If you are needed, I will send to the parsonage for you, but it would be a surprise to me if the marriage comes off now,” the host said, candidly.
So presently the minister went away, rather disappointed at losing the expected liberal wedding fee.