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Updated: June 17, 2025
Lottie was a little indignant and perplexed at this scene; but noted, with a feeling of disgust, that her partner's face, in his anger, had the look of a demon. But her own reception had been too cool to be agreeable, and this, with the supposed slight to Hemstead, caused Miss Martell to seem to her, for the time, the embodiment of capricious pride.
She learned from her aunt and uncle that Mr. and Miss Martell were feeling better than might have been expected, and that Hemstead was still sleeping. "Sleep was all he wanted," said Mr. Dimmerly; "and I made it my business he should get it." Quite early in the forenoon, Mr. Martell and his daughter felt equal to coming down to the parlor, and after dinner it was their intention to return home.
It was to this effect: Mr. and Miss Martell had been delayed in leaving a friend's house on the opposite side of the river until it was too late to reach the boat on which it was their intention to cross.
His associates were brilliant, but fast men; and for him also the wine-cup was gaining dangerous fascination. Mr. Martell, in the spirit of the most friendly interest, soon learned these facts after his return, and also the gossip, which brought a sudden paleness to his daughter's cheek, that he was engaged, or virtually engaged, to Addie Marchmont.
Harcourt flushed with both pleasure and shame; and as the next form just then required that he should take his companion's hand, he did so with a cordial pressure, as he said, "Men would be better I should be better if all young ladies showed your spirit, Miss Martell." At the next pause in the dance she said, in a low tone, "Come, let us have no 'ifs. Be better anyway."
A little later, as he came stamping up the piazza, out of the snow, after assisting Harcourt and Miss Martell away, the hall-door opened, and some one darted out, and took his hand in a quick, thrilling pressure. A voice that had grown as dear as familiar said, "Before we parted to-night I wanted to tell you that I think Lottie Marsden, like Ninon, has become more than a woman, a Christian."
The few greetings and congratulations that he received as he passed down the aisle seemed formal and constrained, and, he thought, a little insincere. He was still more puzzled as he overheard Miss Martell say to Harcourt at the door, "I am sorry you heard that sermon." "I am, too," he replied, "for it seemed true." "It's only half-truth," she said earnestly.
Martell's garments were frozen upon him, and he was so stiff and numb with cold that with difficulty he made his way up the bank with the support of De Forrest and the gallant coachman, who had suddenly blossomed out into a hero. Harcourt and Hemstead formed with their hands what is termed a "chair," and bore the apparently lifeless form of Miss Martell swiftly towards Mrs. Marchmont's residence.
She felt that he was coming towards her, she heard his voice, and soon knew that his eyes were scanning her downcast face, but she would not look up till he spoke. "Won't you deign me even a glance, Miss Martell?" he asked. The color deepened somewhat in her cheeks, but she looked him full in the face, and said quietly, "Why use the word 'deign, Mr. Harcourt?"
Harcourt and Miss Martell had been specially invited; for the fact of their engagement had become known at once, and Mrs. Marchmont hastened to assure them, by this invitation, that she had no regrets or resentment. Not for the world would she have Miss Martell imagine that any maternal projects had been frustrated. Harcourt, grateful for all the kindness he had received at Mrs.
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