There were several other guests invited to dinner, and the company were all in the drawing-room when he entered.
He drew a long, deep breath when he espied Mollie standing beside his mother, who was introducing her to some of her friends, for she was lovely beyond description. She was still in half-mourning for her mother, and wore a black gown of some thin, gauzy material, the lining to the corsage cut low, and none in the sleeves, thus revealing the outlines of her beautiful arms and neck.
It was elaborately trimmed with white, and the contrast of this effective costume with her flawless complexion and wealth of golden hair was marked. She was now in her nineteenth year, tall and slim, yet perfectly formed, with a proud poise to her small head that gave her a regal air. Her face was delicate and clear-cut as a cameo, with dainty color in her cheeks that ebbed and flowed with every varying emotion, while her blue eyes were just as bright and mischievous, grave or gay, as she was moved, as in the old days when she had played with her boy-lover beneath the elms on the bank of the Hudson.
Philip Wentworth had flirted with many beautiful girls during the last four years, but he now declared to himself that he had never seen any one as lovely as Mollie, or “Miss Marie Heatherford,” as she was known to the world, only a favored few being allowed to address her by the pet-name that had been bestowed upon her during her childhood.
Her every movement gave evidence of the refinement which foreign travel and culture bestows. Philip’s heart leaped as he stood and watched her, himself, for the moment, unseen.
“Mollie is the girl for me!” he mentally exclaimed. “She is perfectly stunning. Any man might be proud to call her wife for herself alone, but, taken with her prospective fortune—ah!”
He made his way toward the group where she stood at the other end of the room.
“Ah! here comes Phil at last,” said Mrs. Temple, with a note of pride in her tones, as he presented himself before them. “I am sure I do not need to introduce two old playfellows.”
The fair girl turned with a smile of pleasure on her lips and put out her hand to greet him, while a lovely blush deepened the color in her cheeks.
As Phil clasped the slim hand and bent upon her a look of undisguised admiration while he murmured the joy he experienced at her home-coming, her beautiful blue eyes were searching his face with a grave and steady gaze.