“Only he’s so afraid of Papa. Of course, Janey, you must understand that Mr. Montgomery hasn’t—you know—hasn’t—that is, I know he likes me, but he hasn’t said so. He says he can’t, until he’s talked to Papa; he says that wouldn’t be honorable. And Papa won’t give him a chance!” And once more, Elise began to weep gently.
“Don’t cry, Elise darling—father will give him a chance,” said Jane; but these words of comfort only elicited sobs from Elise.
“That’s what I’m afraid of!” she wailed disconsolately.
This state of affairs seemed hopelessly complicated to Jane. It had no points in common with the romance of Lily and Mr. Sheridan, and in this fact Elise found a certain melancholy satisfaction. Elise of course kept Lily well-posted on the details of her own affair of the heart, and unconsciously assumed a certain superiority in recounting and describing her difficulties that almost irritated the sweet tempered and sympathetic Lily.
“I was very unhappy, too,” said Lily; but Elise shook her head as if to say, “What opposition did you meet with?”
Jane simply looked on, vastly interested in this new development of domestic happenings, but exceedingly dubious as to the outcome. Mrs. Lambert was, of course, deeply sympathetic with her daughter, and Mr. Lambert feeling that there was a conspiracy among the feminine members of the household to overcome his objections, became more than adamantine in his silence.
So matters stood one warm evening, when, notwithstanding the date the summer still lingered on, perhaps from sheer curiosity to know how the problem was going to be solved.
Jane, with a book in her lap, was sitting at her window, not reading, for the light was fading out of the sky, and she was unwilling to light her lamp, so lovely were these last twilight moments of that mild autumn day.
Presently, hearing voices in the garden, she thrust her curly head out of the window.
Elise was sitting on the green bench against the wall; in front of her stood Mr. Montgomery, who, judging from the open gate, had just made his appearance. He held his hat in his hand, but Jane, accustomed to having her attention caught by the green scarf upon it, now noticed with surprise that the green scarf had been replaced by a black one. Now, what might be the significance of that? Mr. Montgomery’s tow-colored hair was slightly disordered, giving yet another reason for one’s believing that he was in distress of some sort.