“Indeed she did, bless her!” ejaculated Evelyn happily, in his native tongue which she spoke with barely an accent, and she touched her orchids with tender fingers. “These flowers came through her agency, as well as your dear note, René.”
“I followed her advice.” La Montagne’s face darkened. “But I like not to court you in secret, dear heart; surely your mother is one to see reason. I am not,” flushing, “objectionable; nor am I altogether without money.”
“I do not think it was mother who suppressed your letters,” exclaimed Evelyn. “I suspect my step-father——”
An exclamation interrupted her. “I cannot understand a nature so complex,” declared La Montagne. “Mr. Burnham on the surface, perhaps, is the most gracious host——” He paused abruptly. “But do not let us waste the precious hour talking of him; what of yourself?” and he scanned her with adoring eyes.
“I am very well and—” with a shy upward look—“happy, now that your silence is explained.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ah, René, I was cruelly hurt by your apparent neglect.”
“Never think that of me again,” exclaimed La Montagne, deep feeling in voice and gesture. “You are my ideal, my love. I will marry you with or without your mother’s consent.”
Evelyn shook her head in dissent as she pressed his hand. “We will marry, but it will be with mother’s approval,” she said. “Mr. Burnham is clever, but he cannot hoodwink mother all the time; and”—she nodded wisely—“I have a score to settle for what he made me suffer this summer.”
“Were you ill-treated, heart’s dearest?” demanded La Montagne.
“Oh, no. I chose the convent after a dispute with Mr. Burnham who insisted that I accept Mary Palmer’s invitation to spend the summer with her in the Adirondacks.” She hesitated, then in a sudden burst of confidence, added a trifle incoherently: “I didn’t care to accept because, you see, Mary’s brother, Jim Palmer, has—well, he—that is, he likes me.”
“I can well believe it,” acknowledged La Montagne and they laughed light-heartedly, but a shadow lurked in his handsome eyes as he glanced at her fresh young beauty. “And this Monsieur Jim, does he make love?”