“How does it come that you do not call at the Hortons’ any more?” asked the captain, turning around in his chair and facing Hugh.
Hugh reddened a little. “Oh, I fancy they are kept busy entertaining Doctor Avondale,” replied Hugh.
“Lord Avondale,” corrected the captain. “My wife tells me that he received a cablegram, forwarded by mail from Dodge City, advising him of his brother’s death, and thus the doctor succeeds to the family titles and estates. Better be careful, Hugh,” he went on, jestingly, “or you will let this English lord carry away—not only an heiress, but one of the loveliest girls in the world. I have never known any one who could even play with Cupid without receiving a scratch on the heart—or inflicting one.”
“I hardly believe, Captain,” Hugh replied, slowly, “that we have much to do with the shaping of our own destinies, for we are but barks on an open sea, tossed and driven about by every wind of chance. The harbor that we expect to make is seldom reached. I am but little acquainted with love’s tender passion. I hardly know that I should recognize it, if it were to come to me. Miss Horton’s wishes and preference must be considered above all else.”
“Ah, Hugh,” said the captain, gravely, “she is too sensible a girl not to prefer a man like you to a ‘fungus of nobility,’ such as Lord Avondale. My advice to you, my boy, is to go in and win. The sooner the question is settled, and this Englishman takes his departure, the better. There are two duties which you owe in this affair. One, of simple justice to yourself, if you care for the girl, and I believe you do; the other, protection to her. The environments that are closing around Ethel Horton, and the influences that are being brought to bear to crowd her into a marriage with this fortune-hunter, are damnable—yes, sir, damnable!” The captain fairly shouted, as he made this last remark, while his usually calm face flushed with excitement and anger.
“Why, Captain,” exclaimed Hugh, “you cannot mean that Miss Ethel is being unduly influenced in this affair—that she is not acting of her own free will.”
“That is exactly what I mean,” replied the captain, “and if you were not as blind as a bat, you would have seen it long ago.”
“Yes,” replied Hugh, “but she was betrothed to Lord Avondale before I met her. You remember what Mrs. Osborn said?”
The captain was about to reply, but changed his mind, and turned to his desk. Presently he said, in a subdued voice: “Hugh, in great confidence I will say that I believe Mrs. Osborn was mistaken. They are not betrothed even yet, but soon will be unless you step to the front, like a man, and save the girl from the inevitable fate that otherwise awaits her.”
That evening Hugh sat thoughtfully at his window. He had told Ethel Horton that he would come to her if she sent for him, but he had received no word. The weeks that had intervened since he had seen her last seemed like as many months, or even years; and, yet, his interest was only one of solicitude, he told himself, rather than one of love. He was half inclined to ride over to the Hortons, in the old, informal way. He left the hotel with this intention, but changed his mind before he had walked very far, and, turning down a side street, he sauntered aimlessly along. Presently Mrs. Osborn’s carriage whirled past him. He saw that Lord Avondale was with her. They were so much interested in conversation that they did not see him. The road that they were following led away into the country, in an opposite direction from Horton’s Grove. Hugh paused, and considered whether he had not better return to the hotel, and order his horse, and gallop out to the Grove. In his indecision he walked on down the street, toward Major Hampton’s house.