The Hortons and Captain Osborn seemed to be the only ones in the entire community who did not know of the relations existing between Mrs. Osborn and Lord Avondale. Of late, the Englishman had even neglected Ethel Horton in his mad passion for this fascinating woman. They set all discretion at defiance; and mutter-ings of a great scandal were whispered on every side among the lovers of gossip. In her skilfulness, Mrs. Osborn had entirely blinded Mrs. Horton into the belief that it was her personal interest in helping to make a match for dear Ethel that prompted her to take such deep solicitude in Lord Avondale.
The marriage between Lord Avondale and Ethel had been agreed upon, as far as Mrs. J. Bruce-Horton and the Englishman were concerned. Ethel, however, did not take kindly to the wooings of his lordship, and she repulsed all his advances of a sentimental nature. His attempts at sentiment had a harsh, metallic sound to Ethel, as compared to the divine melody that murmured forever in her heart,—a heavenly refrain as sweet as the oriole’s song in primeval forests,—telling of a deathless love for Jack Redfield. Lord Avondale regarded the matter, however, as practically settled, since he had received word of the death of his brother. The family titles were now his, and he determined to barter them for American dollars.
“All American girls,” said he, “have to be subdued—their spirits have to be broken—before they make good wives.”
Hugh tried to persuade himself that he had the courage to declare his love to Ethel, and to ask her hand in marriage. His regard for her was certainly very great, while her marked friendship and consideration for him had caused him to believe that she reciprocated his feelings. The more he thought it over, the stronger became his convictions that delay was dangerous. In proposing marriage he would be asserting his right, as an American gentleman, and, at the same time, discharging his duty, as Captain Osborn had put it, in saving her from a misalliance.
One evening when he returned to his hotel he found Judge Linus Lynn awaiting him.
“Good evenin’, Mr. Stanton,” said the judge, extending his hand in such a friendly way that it admitted of no refusal, “been waitin’ for you several minutes. Major Hampton wants to see you. He’s at the Patriot office.”
“Very well,” replied Hugh, and together they started down the street. Major Hampton admitted them and at once locked the door.
“My dear Stanton,” said he, “I am, indeed, delighted to see you. First of all let me apologize for locking the door and pulling down the curtains. The town is full of Barley Hullers to-night, and callers will besiege my office unless I take this precaution. There are potent reasons why I wish to talk with you. We want to bind you more closely to us by indissoluble bonds. This is why I have sent for you.”
All three seated themselves, while the major was yet speaking. Hugh observed that Judge Lynn’s eyes wore a particularly glassy expression, while the odor of liquor seemed completely to envelope his rotund figure. The judge frequently smacked his lips, as if he were tasting something, and affectionately caressed his side whiskers in an attempt to wear an expression of sobriety.
“Gentlemen, help yourselves to cigars,” said the major, waving his hand toward a well-filled box that occupied a prominent place on the table. “I find great pleasure in the soothing effect of a good cigar.”