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"If my nephew were not married," said the Colonel, "I should regard his embarrassment with much suspicion embarrassed at every point, from his travels about the country to the question of a young lady at Twickenham. I wonder who that young lady can be not one of the Viponts, or I should have heard. Are there any young ladies on the Lyndsay side? Eh, Darrell?"
Silent, however, he at last became; but her mind, too, was engaged, and she supposed that her admirer was quiet only because, like herself, he was happy. At length they reached her house, but he excused himself from entering, and drove on immediately to Annesley. He was at Lady Bloomerly's. Lord Darrell had not returned, and his servant did not expect him. Lord Squib was never to be found.
He had turned his face aside with a quick look of pain as he spoke, and the next moment I had mounted the breach and was begging Miss Darrell to assist me in the case of a poor family, old hospital acquaintances of mine, who were emigrating to New Zealand. My importunity seemed to surprise her. My sudden loquacity was an interruption; but I would not be repressed or silenced.
"Yes, for wanting to marry you. You, who don't care a bad cent for him!" "How many bad cents did you care, Miss Stuart, when you were so willing to be his wife?" "More than you, Miss Darrell, for at least I was not in love with any one else." "And who may Miss Darrell be in love with, pray?" "With Charley," answered Trix, her face still afire. "Deny it if you dare!
"I have, therefore, fulfilled your commission so far," renewed George Morley. "I have ascertained that Mr. Darrell is alive, and doubtless well; so that it could not have been his ghost that startled you amidst yonder thicket.
"Really, Miss Underwood," Walcott remarked one evening when Duke had been more than usually demonstrative, "your pet's attentions to me are sometimes a trifle distracting. Could you not occasionally bestow the pleasure of his society upon some one else Mr. Darrell, for instance? I imagine the two might prove quite congenial to each other." "Please remember, Mr.
His large, rather light blue eyes, look at one sometimes as though to say: "'I have a secret sorrow here, A grief I'll ne'er impart, It heaves no sigh, it sheds no tear, But it consumes the 'art!" Miss Darrell was an actress by nature she repeated this lachrymose verse, in a sepulchral tone of voice. "That's it, you may depend, Trixy. The poor young gentleman's a prey to unrequited affection.
Britton's inquiries, but conscious of the lack of affinity between herself and Darrell's mother, it seemed to her that the dark eyes regarding her so searchingly must read with what hopes she had come, and how those hopes had died. She was glad Darrell was not at home; she could not have met him then and there. But so quiet were her words and manner, so like her usual demeanor, that Mrs.
"I can never have too much, you know, papa," she answered, very seriously, and Darrell, watching, saw in the brown eyes for the first time the wistful look he had seen in the two portraits. She soon followed her aunt, but her father and Darrell remained outside talking of business matters until summoned to dinner.
But as the two came home in the starlight, the dogs dead beat and poor Fairthorn too, ten to one but what the musician was leaning all his weight on his master's nervous arm, and Darrell was looking with tender kindness in the face of the SOMEONE left to lean upon him still.
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