"Why?" she exclaimed half-startled, and beginning to think the affair must be serious. "Not go up for the Orville!"
"The school would be in mutiny."
"James!"
"It would. And Trace may make as certain of the prize now as if he'd got it."
"Is there no chance for you, James?" she asked, rather wistfully.
He laughed, and shook his head. "I have done my best, but there's not a bit of hope for anybody against Trace. Had Paradyne gone in for it, there'd have been a close struggle between the two—and I don't think victory would have declared for Trace. About the father? oh, I can't stay to tell you,"—preparing to dash off again. "Queer rumours they are."
Queer indeed, and various; as whispered about from boy to boy. The exaggerations were something ludicrous. "Paradyne's father had been hung for murder," "been transported for forgery," "was now serving out his time at Portland Island," and so on. Perhaps Talbot did well not to mention such to his mother.
He left her in a comfortable state of uncertainty. She did not like to disregard the warning altogether, and yet did not like to act upon it. Neither did she see how she could act upon it; and sat on much perplexed.
"I will put a question or two plainly to Miss Paradyne, when she comes to-morrow, as to whether there is any private acquaintance between her and Mr. Henry," decided Mrs. Talbot at length. "I am convinced the Paradynes are as nice as they can be: and I don't believe a word against the daughter. It's all the work of those envious boys."
Utterly unconscious of the storm that was brewing, Mary Paradyne looked forward to her engagement; and when the morning and hour dawned to enter on it, she got ready with alacrity. The young are always so full of hope.