They were all very grateful to him; that is, Virginia and Jane expressed their gratitude. They thought he had been most kind and had put himself to a great deal of trouble in a really unimportant matter. Harriett said nothing, but she suffered an accusing pang when she recalled that she had shown no interest in the weather.
Virginia asked him to be seated, for though he had given the book into her keeping, he still stood before them hat in hand.
Norton sat down with alacrity.
He was not under ordinary circumstances a garrulous young fellow, but on the present occasion he talked hard and fast, as one will who is trying to gain time; but the burden of what he had to say was directed to Virginia. Instinct warned him that it would be her opinion that would have weight with the others, that if he was ever to return there, as he hoped he might be permitted to do, it would be because she was willing he should come; and though Virginia regarded him a little critically at first perhaps, there was nothing of unkindness in her glance.
At last he quitted his chair; but he was manifestly most reluctant to go; they rose, too; and the four walked slowly across the lawn. Norton lagged more and more as they neared the gate; it involved a positive effort for him to tear himself away. In this extremity he fell to admiring the flowers; he was particularly fond of flowers, it seemed; no doubt because he had always lived in the country and was accustomed to having growing things about; he even ventured the hope that Mrs. Landray would let him come later when the roses were in bloom.
“I hope you may come again, Mr. Norton,” responded Virginia kindly.
“Thank you—if it won't be an intrusion, I'll be only too glad to come;” and he stole a swift glance at Harriett.
It may have been the merest chance, but after this in one way and another, Harriett saw a good deal of Norton, for his love of the country took him past the cottage very often. Harriett knew this because she read much by the window in the small parlour.
One night as the three sat in the parlour, the girl's quick ear caught the sound of wheels, and a horse at a rapid trot drew up at the curb. She hid her face in the book she was reading, and her heart beat rapidly. There was a brisk step on the path, and a brisk knock at the door, which Mrs. Walsh opened, and there stood Norton. To the girl's eyes he seemed wonderfully confident, wonderfully sure of himself, and later she might have added, wonderfully discreet, for he devoted himself almost exclusively to Virginia.
He had, it developed, a lively interest in local history; his own maternal grandfather having been a contemporary in the county with General Landray; during the last war with England he had served as a captain in the company of riflemen which the former had raised; furthermore his father had known Mrs. Landray's husband, a fact of which Mrs. Landray herself was well aware. These were all points that were calculated to make her feel a certain liking for the young fellow himself, which was only intensified by his quite evident respect for the very name of Landray; nothing could have been more commendable or better calculated to show him a person of proper instincts. Virginia recalled that as a girl she had been a guest at his mother's wedding; and that General Harrison—to whom Mrs. Norton was distantly related—had been present.