The next morning, however, he called at Mrs. Alexander’s lodgings, and was very cordially received by that lady, whom he found looking far better than he had ever seen her.
She was rapidly regaining flesh and strength, and much of her old-time beauty as well. He had not realized until now how very lovely she was.
Virgie was not in when he arrived—she was out driving with the Misses Huntington, her mother told him—and, knowing that he could not long refrain from speaking of his love for the beautiful girl, he resolved that he would improve this opportunity and crave Mrs. Alexander’s permission to address her daughter with the hope of winning her for his wife.
But how to broach the subject so near his heart was an embarrassing question, and after the first few moments he became thoughtful, and even pale, causing Mrs. Alexander to wonder if anything had gone wrong with him since his return.
“I am afraid your native air does not agree with you, Mr. Hamilton,” said his hostess, breaking an awkward pause; “you are not looking as well as when I saw you last.”
The truant color rushed into the young man’s face in a torrent at this remark, and he made a bold venture, resolved to put his fate to the test at once.
“It is not my ‘native air,’ Mrs. Alexander,” he answered, smiling slightly; “but, finding you alone this morning, I have been impelled to confess something to you, and yet I find myself lacking the courage to break the ice.”
“Surely, I did not suppose that I was one to inspire fear in anyone,” remarked his friend, archly.
“You are not; but when one’s dearest hopes are at stake, it is sometimes hard to speak of them,” Rupert answered, gravely; then added, frankly: “Mrs. Alexander, you must have suspected ere this how fondly I love your daughter. I have loved her ever since our meeting on that California trip last winter, and I have only been waiting for your sanction to my suit to open my heart to her. I hoped to see you last spring on my return to New York, but you had left the city and I could not learn your address. I then resolved to seek you again at the end of the summer, but you were still absent when I came back the last of September. You can, perhaps, imagine something of my disappointment—I may even say despair——when I found that I must return to England with no hope of confessing my love to Virgie. I do not need to tell you that I experienced a sudden ecstasy when I discovered that you were both on the same vessel with me and bound for the same port, and I could not have remained silent as long as I have, had it not been for the illness which kept my dear one a prisoner in her berth during our voyage. I know that I am, comparatively, a stranger to you, but you are so situated now that you can easily ascertain whether what I have to offer Virgie—a true heart, an untarnished name, and all that I have of this world’s goods—is worthy of her acceptance. Mrs. Alexander, will you give me leave to try to win her?”