Guy accompanied her to the city, wondering why, when he used to like
it so much, it now seemed dull and tiresome, or why the society he had
formerly enjoyed failed to bring back the olden pleasure he had
experienced when a resident of Boston. Guy was very popular there, and
much esteemed by his friends of both sexes, and great were the efforts
made to entertain and keep him as long as possible. But Guy could not
be prevailed upon to stay there long, and after seeing Agnes settled
in one of the most fashionable boarding houses, he started for
Aikenside.
It was dark when he reached home, and as the evening had closed in
with a heavy rain, the house presented rather a cheerless appearance,
particularly as, in consequence of Mrs. Noah's not expecting him that
day, no fires had been kindled in the parlors, or in any room except
the library. There a bright coal fire was blazing in the grate, and
thither Guy repaired, finding, as he had expected, Jessie and her
teacher. Not liking to intrude on Mr. Guy, of whom she still stood
somewhat in awe, Maddy soon arose to leave, but Guy bade her stay; he
should be lonely without her, he said, and so bringing her work she
sat down to sew, while Jessie looked over a book of prints, and Guy
upon the lounge studied the face which, it seemed to him, grew each
day more and more beautiful. Then he talked with her of books, and the
lessons which were to be resumed on the morrow, watching Maddy as her
bright face sparkled and glowed with excitement. Then he questioned
her of her father's family, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction in
knowing that the Clydes were not a race of whose blood any one need be
ashamed; and Maddy was more like them he was sure than like the
Markhams, and Guy shivered a little as he recalled the peculiar
dialect of Mr. and Mrs. Markham, and remembered that they were Maddy's
grandparents. Not that it was anything to him. Oh, no, only as an
inmate of his family he felt interested in her, more so perhaps than
young men were apt to be interested in their sister's governess.
Had Guy then been asked the question, he would, in all probability,
have acknowledged that in his heart there was a feeling of superiority
to Maddy Clyde; that she was not quite the equal of Aikenside's heir,
nor yet of Lucy Atherstone. It was natural; he had been educated to
feel the difference, but any haughty arrogance of which he might have
been guilty was kept down by his extreme good sense and generous,
impulsive nature. He liked Maddy; he liked to look at her as, in the
becoming crimson merino which he really and Jessie nominally had given
her, she sat before him, with the firelight falling on her beautiful
hair, and making shadows on her sunny face.