Then turning to Agnes he made some inquiries as to the plans proposed
by the Laurie's, ascertaining that Agnes' plan was as follows: He
should invite her to go with him to Saratoga, or Newport, or both, and
that Jessie meantime should remain at Aikenside, just as she wished to
do.
Guy could not find much pleasure in escorting Agnes to a fashionable
watering place, particularly as he was, of course, expected to pay the
bills, but he sometimes did unselfish things; and as he had not been
very gracious to her on the occasion of her last visit to Aikenside,
he decided to martyr himself and go to Saratoga. But who would care
for Jessie? She must not be left wholly with the servants. A governess
of some kind must be provided, and he was about speaking of this to
Agnes, when the doctor was announced, and the conversation turned into
another channel. Agnes Remington would not have confessed bow much she
was interested in Dr. Holbrook. Indeed, only that morning in reply to
a joking remark made to her by Guy, she had petulantly exclaimed: "The idea of my caring for him, except as a friend and physician. Why,
he must be younger than I am, or at most about my age. A mere boy, as
it were."
And yet, in making her toilet that afternoon, she had arranged every
part of her dress with direct reference to the "mere boy," her heart
beating faster every time she remembered the white sunbonnet and the
Scotch plaid shawl she had seen beside him in the drive that morning.
Little Maddy Clyde would hardly have credited the story had she been
told that the beautiful lady from Aikenside was positively jealous of
Dr. Holbrook's attentions to herself; yet so it was, and the jealousy
was all the more bitter when she remembered who Madeline was, and how
startled that aged couple of the red cottage would be, could they know
who she was. But they did not; she was quite sure of that; and so she
had ventured to pass their door, her heart throbbing with a strange
sensation as the old waymarks came in view, waymarks which she
remembered so well, and around which so many sad memories were
clustering. Agnes was not all bad. Indeed, she was scarcely worse than
most vain, selfish fashionable women; and all that day, since her
return from riding, haunting, remorseful thoughts of the long ago had
been clinging to her, making her more anxious to leave that
neighborhood for a time at least, and in scenes of gayety forget, if
possible, that such things as broken vows or broken hearts existed.