“Indeed!” said Lord Carrol, his face lighting at this intelligence. “I had no idea that you had any English blood in your veins; I thought you were purely American. I have often heard my father speak of Sir William Thornton, of Devonshire, and his son, Sir Charles, was at Oxford with me. I was only slightly acquainted with him, however, as he took his degree a year before I took mine. I am very happy to learn of this fact,” and, as if by some fascination, the young nobleman’s glance sought Josephine as he spoke.
“I once visited at Hallowell Park when I was a young girl,” Mrs. Richards continued, although a flush arose to her cheek as she remembered all that had transpired during that visit, for it was then that Star’s mother had saved her from drowning. “It is a lovely place, and a very large estate, I believe.”
“So I have been told. Sir William was quite an active statesman before his death, which occurred only a year after his wife’s. They had only one child, Sir Charles, I believe.”
“Has he a family?” Mrs. Richards asked, quickly.
“I think not—at least, I have never heard of his marriage. If he should die without issue, I suppose the estate would pass into other hands.”
Mrs. Richards started, and gave the young man a quick glance at this.
“Whose, I wonder?” she said, reflectively, and suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the conversation, and the young lord turned his attention to the more appreciative Josephine.
The month which the Richardses spent at Long Branch was an eventful one; it was the most brilliant season that Josephine had ever known.
She had several offers of marriage, but refused them all, for her heart was set on becoming Lady Carrol, and going to shine among the nobility of England.
When the time drew near for their departure, her heart beat high with hope; for Lord Carrol had lingered beyond the time he had intended to spend there, and she flattered herself that she was the cause of it.