Harry Vivian was not long behind his note. He was greeted in a warm, friendly manner by old Wilton; and by Flora, with a quiet earnestness, which could not fail to impress—as it was intended—those who witnessed it with a sense of the estimation in which she held him, and it did its work.
With surprise and anger, she observed that Colonel Mires, on Wilton presenting his new guest to him, threw up his head in a manner purposely and offensively insolent, and that Lester Vane drew himself up haughtily, and scarcely moved at the introduction.
She saw the quick flash of Hal’s eyes, and the scarlet flush which spread itself like a band across his forehead. Impulsively she moved towards him, to remove as far as possible by her own marked attention, the wound her father’s guests had inflicted upon him, by their contemptuous mode of receiving him, but her father, who did not appear to have noticed the behaviour of either of her guests, caught her by the hand.
“Flo’, my darling,” he said, “I will avail myself of your arm, to assist me to my library this morning; I have a word to say to you; and as our friends know each other now, they will excuse our short absence, and find amusement in the pleasure of their own society until our return.”
With the air of a patrician he waved his hand to his guests, and turned to leave the room.
On reaching the threshold of the door, Flora looked back to Hal, for she felt grieved, after what she had witnessed, to leave him in a position which must, necessarily be embarrassing to him. His eyes were bent upon her, and it seemed to her with a saddened expression in them.
She gently disengaged her arm from her father’s grip, and said—
“One moment, dear father, I will follow you.”
She returned to the room, and he proceeded towards the library.
She hastened towards Hal with a smiling countenance. She laid her white hand upon his arm, and whispered in his ear. He smiled, and pressed her hands in evident gratefulness, and she quitted the room, looking back upon him to the last.