Miss Trevor merely bowed, but Miss Graeme smiled—such a frank, friendly smile—and held out her hand. There are people who greet you with a reserve which at least temporarily chills, and there are others who make you feel that this particular meeting is the one they have been pleasurably anticipating from the very beginning of created things. And so, when I felt the strong, warm pressure of Betty Graeme's palm, how could I help being flattered, even intrigued. I concluded that my new cousin must have liked me on sight, and I was quite ready to return the compliment in kind. Under the heavy, black veil I could discern a symmetrical oval of countenance, and imagination easily supplied the customary accessories of vermilion lips, challenging eyes, and perfumed tresses. In reality, I should never in the world have been able to recognize Betty Graeme by the sense of sight alone, but I should know that handclasp anywhere; and that was enough.
"Of course you are coming back to the house," said Miss Graeme. "Will you ride with us—but I see that Mr. Eldon has arranged to take you with him. Are you ready, Eunice?"
Sitting opposite Mr. and Mrs. Eldon in the big, lumbering landau of ante-bellum days I began my explanations and apologies.
"That doesn't matter in the least," interrupted Mr. Eldon. "We'll send over to Crown Ferry for your bag, and after you get the railroad dust washed away you can make your peace with Betty. The important thing is that you are here now."
"I hadn't expected to remain at the 'Hundred' for more than an hour or two," I continued. "There is an up train through at six o'clock, and I had arranged to stay over at Baltimore."
"I'm afraid that you'll have to put up with us for this particular night," rejoined Mr. Eldon. "Perhaps longer," and the shadow of an enigmatical smile passed over his pleasantly curved lips.
"But at a time like this!" I protested. "Remember that I met Mr. Graeme only once, and that I am an entire stranger to his niece and daughter. Even Southern hospitality has its limits, and I don't want to overstep them."
Mr. Eldon brushed my objections away with a commanding wave of his hand. "Not much danger of that," he said. "You are one of the family, duly accredited and acknowledged. So unless there is some pressing—I should say imperative—necessity for your going North to-night——"
"Oh, not at all," I interrupted. "Not the least necessity, if that is what you mean."
"Of course you must stay," put in Mrs. Eldon. "Betty expects it, and she would never understand any conventional excuse."