He sat by the window far into the night, endeavoring to choose a course to pursue. Lord Avondale would soon return. A sense of duty forced itself upon him when he thought of Ethel Horton, and he determined to declare himself to her without further delay. He tried in vain to analyze his feelings toward the beautiful and accomplished Marie. A mist rose up before him and he seemed to hear once more the Moonlight Sonata. Then he felt that his interest in Marie was embodied solely in the one word, music. He longed for a confiding hour with his old boyhood friend, Jack Redfield. “If he were only here,” he mused, “I would talk it all over with him and be guided by his advice.” Seating himself at his table, he determined to write to him. Then he fell to musing again, and left the letter unwritten.
CHAPTER XXVI.—REACHING A DECISION
TWO weeks had passed since the Osborn dinner. One morning the captain observed to Hugh, “My boy, have you been idling your time away, or can’t you decide?”
“I don’t quite catch your meaning,” said Hugh, pleasantly.
“Well, to be more explicit,” replied Captain Osborn, “you haven’t yet asked Ethel Horton to become your wife, have you?”
Hugh’s face reddened, and he answered, slowly,’ “No, I have not.”
“Perhaps you have changed your mind,” the captain went on. “Mrs. Osborn says you are desperately in love with Miss Hampton, but I don’t rely on second-hand evidence, and that is why I ask you pointblank. Of course, follow your heart, my boy, wherever it leads you, and you’ll not make any great mistake, provided your affection is reciprocated. Reason cannot be depended on in such matters, for usually it spreads its wings and flies away when we become thoroughly inoculated with the illusion of love.”
“My dear Captain,” replied Hugh, “I feel it to be both a duty and a privilege to declare my love to Ethel Horton. I believe I love her, and I am ashamed of myself for having procrastinated as I have.”