'I once—it is not long ago—hinted at this to Mr. Hunter,' she replied. 'He would not hear me out; he would not suffer me to conclude. It was an utter impossibility that you could ever marry Florence,' he said: 'neither was it likely that either of you would wish it.'
'But we do wish it; the love has already arisen,' he exclaimed, in agitation. Dear Mrs. Hunter——'
'Hush, Austin! calm yourself. Mr. Hunter must have some private objection. I am sure he has; I could see so far; and one that, as was evident, he did not choose to disclose to me. I never inquire into his reasons when I perceive this. You must try and forget her.'
A commotion was heard in the hall. Austin went out to ascertain its cause. There stood Gwinn of Ketterford, insisting upon an interview with Mr. Hunter.
Austin contrived to get rid of the man by convincing him Mr. Hunter was really not at home. Gwinn went out grumbling, promising to be there the first thing in the morning.
The interlude had broken up the confidence between Austin and Mrs. Hunter; and he went home in despondency: but vowing to win her, all the same, sooner or later.
CHAPTER II. MR. COX.
Time had gone on. It was a gloomy winter's evening. Not that, reckoning by the seasons, it could be called winter yet; but it was getting near it, and the night was dark and sloppy, and blowing and rainy. The wind went booming down Daffodil's Delight, sending the fierce rain before it in showers, and the pools gleamed in the reflected light of the gas-lamps, as wayfarers splashed through them and stirred up their muddy waters.