"But that was not the worst. He certainly must be a man without pity
or a spark of feeling. He actually had the cruelty to lead the other a
little to one side, where she could have a view of the discarded
rival. Was it not barbarous? This was too much for the other. It stung
her into something like proper self-respect. As soon as the other
turned away--and I will do the Hillyard girl the justice to say that
she betrayed no sign of gratification at her rival's confusion--she
jumped to her feet with a little cry, tied on her hat, and ran away up
the hill, as if to hide herself among the trees. Then Miss Rose seemed
suddenly to remember about you. She dismissed her admirer with the
peremptory assurance of an old hand, who knows exactly what she means
to do, and strolled calmly across the sands to meet you coming back to
her. She must have managed very well. I saw her leaning on your arm as
friendly as possible--a clever girl, but a sad handful, I should
imagine, for the man whose doubtful fortune it may be to get her for a
wife."
"And now you have done, Susan, with your romance? Let me congratulate
you on your talent for 'putting that and that together,' and producing
a coherent fiction from true premisses, which might do credit to the
author of the 'Arabian Nights.'"
"And pray, if the premisses are true, and nothing of my own is added,
how can you venture to suppose that my inferences are astray? You are
infatuated, Joseph Naylor."
"My good creature, the young lady has told me of this interview with
the tall young man which you have described so graphically. It must
indeed have been exciting and full of emotion, but you have entirely
failed to catch its true import; and, as far as I can see, there is no
reason why you should understand it, either you or any of the twenty
other eavesdroppers you mention, who have been gratuitously
interesting themselves in what does not concern them. Miss Hillyard is
suffering from violent headache in consequence of what occurred, and
has returned to the village to lie down. On second thoughts, I believe
I shall follow her, and try if she will not let me drive her back to
the Beach at once. That will be better than encountering the twenty
pairs of curious eyes during the evening, who will want to watch her
every movement, and piece a romance out of every time she looks at her
watch. Goodbye, Susan. Accept thanks for kind intentions on my
account; but do, pray, be more charitable in future. Good-bye,
Margaret. I am going back at once, and shall be asleep when you get
home. Kiss me good-night, child."
Margaret rose to pay the dutiful salute. Joseph kissed her on the
cheek, and finding his lips so conveniently near her ear, he
whispered--
"Walter's buggy will be the first in the line. He will be waiting. Get
down before the others. Jump in; and God bless you!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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