“And so ’Lena’s got the headache,” said John Jr. “Well, I don’t wonder,
cooking all the dinner as she did.”
“What do you mean?” asked Anna, while Mrs. Livingstone’s angry frown
bade her son keep silence,
Filial obedience, however, was not one of John Jr.’s cardinal virtues,
and in a few words, he repeated what Aunt Milly had told him, adding
aside to Durward, “_This_ explains the extreme rosiness which so much
offended your lordship. When next you see her, you’ll change your
mind.”
Suddenly remembering that his grandmother had not been introduced, he
now presented her to Durward. The _Noble’s_ blood had long been
forgotten, but grandma was never at a loss for a subject, and she
commenced talking notwithstanding Carrie’s efforts to keep her still.
“Now I think on’t, Car’line,” said she at last, turning to her
granddaughter, “now I think on’t, what made you propose to have my
dinner sent up to my room. I hain’t et there but once this great while,
and that was the day General Fontaine’s folks were here, and Matilda
thought I warn’t able to come down.”
Durward’s half-concealed smile showed that he understood it all, while
John Jr., in his element when his grandmother was talking, managed, to
lead her on, until she reached her favorite theme—Nancy Scovandyke.
Here a look from her son silenced her, and as dinner was just then
over, Durward missed of hearing that remarkable lady’s history.
Late in the afternoon, as the family were sitting upon the piazza,
’Lena joined them. Her headache had passed away, leaving her face a
shade whiter than usual. The flush was gone from her forehead and nose,
but mindful of Durward’s remark, the roses deepened on her cheek, which
only increased her loveliness.
“I acknowledge that I was wrong—your cousin _is_ beautiful,” whispered
Durward to Carrie, who, mentally hating the beauty which had never
before struck her so forcibly, replied in her softest tones, “I knew
you would, and I hope you’ll be equally ready to forgive her for
winning hearts only to break them, for with that face how can she help
it?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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