“Are you not somewhat harsh in your judgment of me, Everet? Surely, whatever else you may say of me, you cannot accuse me of lacking in affection for my son,” she said, sadly and tremulously.
“Forgive me, mother,” he pleaded, conscience-smitten, “but, indeed, it nearly drives me distracted to think that I may not be able to win Gladys; while he, that beggar without even a name, has won her without an effort.”
“Has won? Then they are engaged?”
“Yes.”
“What folly, Everet? I would respect myself too much to cry after a girl who was already pledged,” said Mrs. Mapleson, scornfully, and with flashing eyes.
His face flamed angrily.
“I tell you, you cannot understand!” he cried. “At all events, whether I win or not, I will do my utmost to separate them. I detest him so thoroughly, I will never allow him to triumph where I have failed.”
He stole from the room with these words, and that night he left Newport for Vue de l’Eau, where he arrived three days later, and found his father at home keeping bachelors’ hall in fine style, with half a dozen servants to attend him.
Colonel Mapleson greeted his son with a heartiness which testified to the deep affection which he bore him, though he expressed some surprise that he should have returned at that season, when he might have been enjoying the cool breezes of Newport, and had his pick of the fashionable belles who thronged the place.
“I have not been at home for a long time, you know,” Everet responded, carelessly, “and somehow had a peculiar longing to get back to the old place. Mother rebelled at being left, but I promised to send you on to take my place.”