The old lady colored up, with the quick, vivid rose-tint of sudden
and real pleasure that rarely outlives early girlhood, when the
first respondent to the breakfast-bell proved to be her Frederic's
god-son.
"You are always punctual! I wish you would teach the good habit to
some other people," she said, after answering his cordial
"good-morning."
"None of us deserve to be praised on that score, to-day," rejoined
he, looking at his watch. "I did not awake until the dressing-bell
rang. Our riding-party was out late last night. The extreme beauty
of the evening beguiled us into going further than we intended, when
we set out."
"Yes! you young folks are falling into shockingly irregular
habits--take unprecedented liberties with me and with Time!" shaking
her head. "If Winston do not return soon, you will set my mild rule
entirely at defiance."
Chilton laughed--but was serious the next instant.
"I expected confidently to meet him at this visit," he said,
glancing at the door to guard against being overheard. "Should he
not return to-day, ought I not, before leaving this to-morrow, to
write to him, since he is legally his sister's guardian? It is, you
and she tell me, a mere form, but one that should not be dispensed
with any longer."
"That may be so. Winston is rigorous in requiring what is due to his
position--is, in some respects, a fearful formalist. But he will
hardly oppose your wishes and Mabel's. He has her real happiness at
heart, I believe, although he is, at times, an over-strict and
exacting guardian--perhaps to counterbalance my indulgent policy. He
is unlike any other young man I know."
"His sister is very much attached to him."
"She loves him--I was about to say, preposterously. Her implicit
belief in and obedience to him have increased his self-confidence
into a dogmatic assertion of infallibility. But"--fearing she might
create an unfortunate impression upon the listener's mind--"Winston
has grounds for his good opinion of himself. His character is
unblemished--his principles and aims are excellent. Only"--relapsing
hopelessly into the confidential strain in which most of the
conference had been carried--"between ourselves, my dear Frederic, I
am never quite easy with these patterns to the rest of human-kind. I
should even prefer a tiny vein of depravity to such very rectangular
virtue."
"You are seldom ill at ease, if human perfection is all that renders
you uncomfortable," responded Frederic. "There are not many in whose
composition one cannot trace, not a tiny, but a broad vein of Adamic
nature. What a delicious morning!" he added, sauntering to the
window.