“Alice left me but a moment ago, Neddie is in the garden, at play, I believe, and Clara has gone to ride.”
“To ride?—With whom?”
“With Mr. Brentford, a young man who came to town about the time you left, and has become somewhat intimate here. I should like to have you make his acquaintance.”
“Why, what is he?”
“You will see for yourself,” answered his wife, with a smile. “But you have told me nothing about your poor sister yet.”
It was not long before Dr. Gregory had an opportunity of meeting the stranger, and holding quite a long conversation with him in his own house.
“That is the man you spoke of?” said he abruptly to his wife, as the door closed on the visitor.
She assented.
“A man, indeed, if hair and cloth can make one. It is a pity he hadn’t a brain inside his comely cranium.”
Clara flashed a vengeful glance on her step-mother, as the doctor thus characteristically uttered himself, and sailed majestically out of the room.