"And who's _Mr. Livingston_, Hope," inquired Mrs. Van Rensselaer, adjusting her veil carefully before the small mirror. "I didn't suppose you had a _Mr._ anybody up here in this terrible country! Why the prefix?" "He's a white man," replied the girl, pulling down her hat to hide the flush that crept into her face. "An Englishman, Edward Livingston." "An Englishman," mused Clarice, pulling on her gloves. "But what makes you _Mister_ him, Hope? _Livingston_--wonder if he's any relation to Lord Livingston? _Edward_ Livingston, did you say?" "Oh, such a _nice_ man!" exclaimed Louisa, clasping her hands in rapture. "He is my goot, kind friend." "And Hope's too, isn't he?" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, at which remark Hope advised her to hurry up. "But my dear, I _am_ hurrying just as fast as I can," she exclaimed. "I assure you I am as anxious to get away from here as you are to have me. I don't see how you've ever stood it, Hope! The attraction must be very strong. Come, own up, is it this _Mister_ Livingston? Why, I believe you are blushing. You're so black, though, I can't be certain. But it's a good name--Livingston. Come on; I'm ready to see this _Mister Edward Livingston_!" The three passed out of the room and through the large living room beyond, on out of doors. The men had eaten their supper and gone out to the stables, where they congregated in numerous groups--quiet groups, that any other time would have seemed suspicious to Hope. Mrs. Van Rensselaer was led safely past the pigs and dogs without accident, but at the corner of the house she drew back, filled with surprise, and forgetful of all danger. "Hope, I do believe that _is_ Lord Livingston," she whispered. "I knew he was out in this country somewhere. Yes, I'm sure it is he. His wife lives in New York now," she rattled on; "but I don't know her except by sight. She goes in kind of a swift set, anyway, but he belongs to one of the best families in England. Isn't it surprising to run across him like this? I'll go up to him and say--why, how do you do, Lord----" "Come on," said Hope, interrupting and taking her by the arm. "Lord or no lord, you'll never get any supper if you don't hurry up!" Her face had gone from red to white. She took Clarice by the arm and led her up to the buggy. "This is Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Mr. Livingston," she said quickly, before that lady could speak, then turned abruptly about and went to the stable for the saddle-horses. Livingston helped Mrs. Van Rensselaer into the buggy, while Louisa ran after Hope, quickly overtaking her. "She says he hass a vife. I don't belief her!" she exclaimed indignantly, linking her arm through Hope's. "Don't you belief her eider!" "I must believe it, little Louisa, because it is true!" said Hope. "But if it were _not_ true, if it were _not_ true, I think I should be mad with happiness at this moment!" CHAPTER XXV