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Updated: June 17, 2025
One day was spent at young Spudd's factory, the second at the residence of a genial planter rejoicing in the quaint name of Hong Kong Scribbens; on the third morning they reached Segowlie. But still no Martell; only a chit to say that that plaguy juice was still running but that he hoped to be able to drive over to dinner.
"Very well, Burtis; you have done your duty in speaking to me, and so need not say anything to Mr. Martell about it. I rather think you have prevented a funeral, and perhaps I owe you as many thanks as Mrs. Marchmont's coachman. At any rate you will find on Christmas that you have not been forgotten."
"Oh! come! save my father!" cried Alice Martell, in a tone that might have moved the very ice around her to pity. "My child, my child!" came the agonized voice of the father. "Never think of me, if you can save her." Hemstead's nature was anthracite, and now glowed at white heat in his grand excitement.
Marchmont, in offended dignity, "I think you might, at least, have answered Addie's question and told us what the trouble is." "Trouble enough, God knows. Mr. and Miss Martell have been caught in the ice, out in an open boat, for hours. Do you see that light there? Good heavens! there is another light shooting out toward it "
They had also found Harcourt strangely silent and pre-occupied. The evident influence of Miss Martell over Harcourt, and their intimate relations require some explanation. He was an orphan, and his father had been a friend of Mr. Martell. During the last illness of the elder Mr. Harcourt, he had asked his friend to take some interest in his son, and, when possible, to give him friendly counsel.
Could Miss Martell, the child of luxury, so beautiful and yet so frail and delicate, be out in the darkness and cold of this winter night, perishing perhaps, with the lights of this her elegant home full in view? Then, for the first time, he recognized that the room he was in must be Miss Martell's sleeping apartment.
Martell and his little party could season Mrs. Byram's sumptuous viands with Attic salt. And the flavor of their wit and thought was so attractive that they soon had a group of the most intelligent and cultivated of the company around them, and Lottie saw that Hemstead, who had been neglected by his own party, was becoming appreciated by the best people present.
But he seemed to have a dash of wild blood that would break out only too often into indiscretions, the rumors of which filled his kind friend Mr. Martell with anxiety. But Alice, his daughter ever insisted that he would "come out all right." "Tom has a good heart, father," she would say; and so, with woman's faith, she hoped where her father feared.
Lottie now turned to speak to Miss Martell, and evil-eyed Brently, her partner, had also been standing near, waiting till Harcourt should cease to occupy her attention so closely. The young lady was polite, but not cordial, to Lottie; she did not vouchsafe a glance to Brently. But he was not easily abashed. "Miss Martell," he said suavely, "will you honor me for the next waltz?"
Harcourt said, "Brently does not seem to be in your good graces, Miss Martell; and that is strange, for he is the lion of the evening." "I can well imagine that he belongs to the cat species," she replied. "I have no personal grievance against Mr. Brently, but I do not consider him a gentleman. My father knows that he is not one, and that is enough for me."
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