The next morning after her adventure with Ellen Carson, Allison left New York for Newport, where the Brewster villa was reopened, with John Hubbard to play the part of proprietor and host, and mature his plans for the capture of the beautiful heiress for whom and whose money he had so long been scheming.
To Allison the thought of spending the entire summer in the same house with the man whom she so disliked seemed intolerable, and she became very restless and rebellious in view of the prospect before her ere a week had passed.
“What shall I do with myself during all the years that will intervene before his authority over me or my fortune will expire?” she asked herself, with a feeling of excessive impatience, one day during the second week of their sojourn at Newport.
Yet the man was unwearied in his attentions, unvarying in his kindness to her. He spared no trouble to give her pleasure, he grumbled at no expense if he could but see her smiling and happy, and be allowed to bask in her presence.
“I cannot live an idle, aimless life,” she mused, “while I am waiting for Gerald to make his fortune. Oh, what a proud, obstinate boy! But why doesn’t he write to me? I have not heard from him once since coming to Newport,” she sighed, with a troubled expression. “I would like to teach,” she went on, after a moment of thought; “but it hardly seems right for me, with my fortune, to apply for a position which would otherwise be filled by a girl who must support herself. But something I must do to break away from this bondage. Oh, I know!” with an eager start. “It will be just the most delightful plan! I will have a chaperon, and I will travel. It will be such a blessed relief to get away from—him!”
And, much elated with what she considered a very clever plan, she sought her guardian and made known her wish to go abroad.
The man glanced sharply at her the moment he comprehended her purpose; then sat quietly listening to her until she concluded the rehearsal of her plan, which was, in the main, that she wished to have at least a couple of years of foreign travel before making her début in New York society—which it would not be etiquette for her to do until her season of mourning was over.
When she was through he changed his seat to one beside her, and remarked, with a confidential look and smile:
“Really, Allison, I think it rather singular that you and I both should have the same project in view.”
She glanced up at him in surprise.