"I intend to get him the Belle of the Tye. 'Tis the least I can do. For I am at my wits' end how to reward him, Dolly. And when are you coming back?" I whispered earnestly, seeing her silent.
"I would that I knew, Richard," she replied, with a certain sadness that
went to my heart, as tho' the choice lay beyond her. Then she changed.
"Richard, there was more in Mr. Lloyd's letter than mamma told you of.
There was ill news of one of your friends."
"News!"
She looked at me fixedly, and then continued, her voice so low that I was forced to bend over:
"Yes. You were not told that Patty Swain fell in a faint when she heard of your disappearance. You were not told that the girl was ill for a week afterwards. Ah, Richard, I fear you are a sad flirt. Nay, you may benefit by the doubt,—perchance you are going home to be married."
You may be sure that this intelligence, from Dorothy's lips, only increased my trouble and perplexity.
"You say that Patty has been ill?"
"Very ill," says she, with her lips tight closed.
"Indeed, I grieve to hear of it," I replied; "but I cannot think that my accident had anything to do with the matter."
"Young ladies do not send their fathers to coffee-houses to prevent duels unless their feelings are engaged," she flung back.