But now, just as he thought he had won her—when he was on the verge of claiming her, he found himself in deep waters, from which he feared it might be somewhat difficult to extricate himself.
Star had a right to denounce him, believing what she did. He had parted from her on Saturday evening as Archibald Sherbrooke and her accepted lover, while on Monday she had seen him driven in great style to the Richards’ mansion, and greeted as Lord Carrol, and a suitor for the brilliant Josephine’s hand. Surely circumstances were against him.
“I must get out of this muddle as soon as possible,” he said, as he ascended the steps and paused a moment on the porch to consider what he ought to do.
Entering the house, he avoided the drawing-room, where a gay company was assembled, and passed on to a music-room which led into the library.
Mr. Richards was in the latter room, seated at his desk, and the door between the two was open. As he saw his lordship, he arose and came forward to meet him.
“Can I have a few moments’ conversation with you?” the young man asked, gravely.
“Certainly; as many as you wish. Shall we retire to the privacy of the library?” returned Mr. Richards, who at once jumped to the conclusion that he was about to receive a formal proposal for the hand of his daughter.
So also thought another listener, who happened to be standing on the veranda just outside the open window of the music-room, and who had caught the above sentences.
“No,” Lord Carrol returned. “What I have to say can just as well be said here as anywhere. I find myself unexpectedly in a very unpleasant situation, and I have come at once to you, because I consider a straightforward course the wisest always to pursue. I wish to tell you a little story, and then ask your assistance in correcting an awkward mistake.”
“Anything that I can do for you, my lord, I shall be most happy to do,” blandly affirmed Mr. Richards, little realizing what he was promising, while he followed the young man’s example and sat down to listen to his narrative.