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Finding the theme fertile, Amy Waring, looking, with tender eyes at her relative, continued. And yet with all the freedom with which she told the story of Lawrence Newt's large heart, there was an unusual softness and shyness in her appearance. The blithe glance was more drooping. The clear, ringing voice was lower.
His fingers still played idly on the chair, and his eyes, like the eyes of Lawrence, looked out upon the river. Every thing in Lawrence Newt's conduct was at once explained; and the poor artist was ready to curse his absurd folly in making his friend involuntarily sit for Endymion. Lawrence Newt knew his friend's thoughts.
"Jealous of what?" returned the young man, in a lower tone, and more seriously. "Oh! it's only of of of of what I hear from the girls," said Grace, fluttering a little, as she remembered the conservatory at Mrs. Boniface Newt's, which also Abel had not forgotten. "And what do you hear, Miss Grace?" he asked, in pure music. Grace blushed, and laughed.
It was worked into the ground glass of the door that led from his dining-room to the back stairs. He had his paper stamped with it; and a great many of his neighbors, thinking it a neat and becoming ornament, imitated him in its generous use. Mrs. Newt's family had a crest also. She was a Magot another of the fine old families which came to this country at the earliest possible period.
"He certainly spoke as if he knew," persisted the painter, recklessly, as he saw and felt the usual calmness return to his companion. "He said that if Endymion were not dead he couldn't resist such splendor of beauty." As Arthur Merlin spoke he looked directly into Hope Wayne's face, as if he were speaking of her. "Mr. Newt's judgment seems to be better than his memory," said she, pleasantly.
"Really, Boniface," said his wife, with an air of offended propriety, "I see no occasion for such pointed allusions to our misfortunes. It is certainly in very bad taste." "Riches have wings! Riches have wings!" persisted her husband, still gazing at her, and still beating time with the white bony fingers. Mrs. Newt's whimpering broadened into crying.
Condor, and General Belch tarried behind, with two or three more. "Shall we go to Newt's?" asked the General. "Yes, I told him we should be round after the meeting," replied Mr. Condor; and the party were presently at his rooms. The Honorable Abel had placed several full decanters upon the table, with a box of cigars. "Mr.
Newt, why do you take so cheerless a view of your husband's intentions in this matter?" The words that her husband had spoken in his wrath had rung in Mrs. Newt's mind ever since, and they now fell, echo-like, from her tongue. "Because he said that, daughter or no daughter, she shall lie in the bed she has made." Mrs. Dinks could not help showing a little chagrin. It was the sign for Mrs.
"No," she said, "I see no way. I can only be ready to befriend him if the chance offers." They said no more of him then, but Hope persuaded Fanny to come to Lawrence Newt's Christmas dinner, to which they had all been bidden. "And I will make him understand about it," she said, as she went down the steps. Mrs. Dinks sat upon the door-step for some time.
Abel Newt's glittering eyes are upon them. It is the very moment he had intended to be standing by her side, to hold her arm in his, and to make her feel that the music which pealed in long cadences through the midnight, and streamed through the draped windows into the room, was the passionate entreaty of his heart, the irresistible pathos of the love he bore her.
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