Extending his hand and firmly grasping that of the stranger, Norman said:
“Permit me to welcome any friend that Owen Hunter may introduce. You are worthy, or he would not ask it: As for our friendship in the past, if we have not been intimate friends it has not been for lack of mutual attraction but rather that the ties that bound us were not close enough, and it is not too late to make them closer. I always felt the most profound admiration for the sunny tempered youth I knew as Owen Hunter.
“Thank you, for your generous welcome,” replied a grave, musical voice. “I am but as an instrument in the hands of Mr. Hunter. I follow where he leads. Later I hope you will bid me welcome on my own account.”
“Spoken like a man. I feel that already I may speak the words of welcome in your own behalf. But come, dinner will be waiting, and in a well regulated household, as you both understand, to the good housewife that is abomination, and my mother knows what good housekeeping is. But set your mind at rest; she will tender you the welcome I ask for my friends. Formal and precise she may be, but she is also a most gracious hostess. My sisters also you will find pleased to meet you. But they do not belong to the charmed circle to which I insist on introducing you. No protests! I will have my way. You are already announced, and in this instance I mean to be firm. You would scarcely be a man if our many charmers cannot succeed in dispelling the clouds, and a man must be of flinty hardness who could listen to our song-bird, sweet, winsome Cora, without being moved.”
Owen started.
“Cora! did you say?—Cora? But pshaw! why should I excite myself over a name. There are hundreds of Coras in the world. But lead on. We are ready to follow.”
So they piled into the cutter and as they dashed over the snow quite forgot their sorrows, and as events of their college years were gone over they soon felt better acquainted than they had ever felt in the olden days. But Milton Nesbit was quiet, very quiet. He only spoke when spoken to, and Owen now realized that it would be better for him to mingle more with others in order to awaken again in that crushed and bleeding heart an interest in life—to deaden the pain that was ever gnawing at his vitals, and though at first Nesbit refused to join the two friends when evening drew near, preferring to remain at home, and although Owen, too, would have much preferred to remain in the seclusion of his room, he feared to hurt the feelings of his kind host, and therefore sacrificed his own desire to that of Norman’s. As for Milton, Owen believed it absolutely necessary that he should accompany them, and insisted on his doing so.
Unwilling to seem boorish, with a sigh Nesbit prepared to make a martyr of himself. So when Norman’s cutter drew up to the Westcot mansion he brought two guests instead of the one expected, but both were made equally welcome. For some reason Norman had not mentioned the name of his intended guest. No intentional oversight, I ween. He had never heard the name of Cora’s lover and therefore could not have known the link binding these two, so when the name of Owen Hunter was announced, each of the girls started. Owen must have thought, for an instant, that they acted strangely, but quickly recovering themselves they extended a hearty welcome. Soft white hands were clasped in the manly ones; rosy lips were wreathed in sweetest smiles. But as Norman’s eyes went about the room he missed Cora, and he asked Imelda where her sister was.
“I believe she was telling baby Norma a story and when that was finished Meta wanted a song, so when she gets through entertaining the little folks she will no doubt make her appearance,” she said.
Owen again started—upon being presented to Imelda Ellwood, and the two names kept forming themselves into one. “Cora, Ellwood; Cora, Ellwood!” Surely he must be going mad. It was only a coincidence, thought he. To find his own sweet girlie here would be too good to be true. So he devoted himself to Imelda and found himself admiring the intelligent, gravely sweet girl who was so well informed on whatever subject might be broached.