They were very happy after this; and, when the dance was over, Dick gave her his arm, and carried her off to see Vigo, who was howling a deep mournful bass at the back of the gardener’s cottage.
Nan made friends with him, and stroked his black curly head, and looked lovingly into his deep melancholy eyes; and then, as her flowers were fading, they strolled off into the conservatory, where Dick gathered her a fresh bouquet and then sat down and watched her arrange it.
“What clever fingers you have got!” he said, looking at them admiringly, as Nan sorted the flowers in her lap; and at this unlucky moment they were discovered by Mr. Mayne, who was bringing Lady Fitzroy to see a favorite orchid.
He shot an angry suspicious glance at his son.
“Dick, your mother is asking for you,” he said, rather abruptly; but Dick growled something in an undertone, and did not move.
Nan gave him a frightened nudge. Why was he so imprudent?
“I cannot move, because of my flowers; do go, Dick. You must indeed, if your mother wants you;” and she looked at him in such a pleading way that Dick dared not refuse. It was just like his father to come and disturb his first happy moments and to order him off to go and do something disagreeable. He had almost a mind to brave it out, and remain in spite of him; but there was Nan looking at him in a frightened, imploring way.
“Oh, do go, Dick,” giving him a little impatient push in her agitation; “if your mother wants you, you must not keep her waiting.” But Nan in her heart knew, as Dick did in his, that the message was only a subterfuge to separate them.