“He is so intellectual,” observed Mrs. Osborn, “and just blasi enough to be interesting. He does not pretend to possess great goodness or innocence, but I daresay he is quite as good as many who do.”
As Mrs. Osborn made this remark she cast a furtive glance at Hugh; and he, remembering their conversation during the drive, colored perceptibly. After dinner they returned to the veranda, where Hugh found himself near Ethel.
“Are you a good horseman, Mr. Stanton?” she asked.
“I can’t say that I am a good horseman,” said Hugh, emphasizing the word “good,” “though I am very fond of riding.”
“It seems so strange that one like yourself should come away out here on the frontier to live,” said the girl, as her eyes rested inquiringly on his face.
“My coming here,” replied Hugh, “happened in a most natural way. I do not see anything strange about it. Thousands of people are immigrating to the West.”
“Yes, but you had to leave your home and your people,” said she.
“Almost every one does that when he comes to a new country,” replied Hugh, “but, unfortunately, I had no people to leave.”
“No people!” exclaimed Ethel. “Why, how odd! You must have an interesting history.”
“On the contrary,” replied Hugh, “it is a very uninteresting one. I am an only child. My father lost his life in the war, and my mother died while I was yet very young—so there you have my genealogy in a nutshell.”