Hubert Tracy seated himself beside Mrs. Arnold and listened to her dear confiding tones.
"Mr. Tracy, I despise that Yorkshire bore, with his coarse English and stupid manners. And his effrontery in presuming to play the suitor to Madge. It is all your own fault. You follow at a distance and have not the courage to claim your rights—"
"Rights!"
"Yes; I say rights, Mr. Tracy. I say that you have a right to claim Madge, because we always looked upon you as her future husband. The girl knows not her own mind, but she will never go against mamma's wishes, and I know that she cares for you, though she will not own it."
"If I thought so I would be happy, for if any woman will ever reclaim me it will be Marguerite Verne."
"Such talk, Mr. Tracy; I'm sure you are no worse than the general run of men. Pray don't talk of reclaiming; that sounds as if you had committed something dreadful."
Just then there arose before Hubert Tracy's vision the sad picture of a brave young man, struggling so hard to prove his innocence when circumstances are all against him. He sees the reproachful gaze of the sorrowful eyes, and he stops his ears to keep back the sound of the reproachful tones that force themselves upon him.
But Mrs. Arnold knows it not.
"We will dispense with the word if it displeases you, Mrs. Arnold. I will do anything that you wish, even if it be impossible for you to be in a dearer relation than at present."
"Hubert Tracy, if you succeed not, remember it is through no fault of mine. Just listen to me."