The eyes of all the people in the barn were fixed upon this party,
except those of Nora Worth, which were riveted upon the young heir.
And this was destiny!
There was nothing unmaidenly in her regard. She looked upon him as a
peasant girl might look upon a passing prince--as something grand,
glorious, sunlike, and immeasurably above her sphere; but not as a
human being, not as a young man precisely like other young men.
While thus, with fresh lips glowingly apart, and blushing cheeks, and
eyes full of innocent admiration, she gazed upon him, he suddenly turned
around, and their eyes met full. He smiled sweetly, bowed lowly, and
turned slowly away. And she, with childlike delight, seized her sister's
arm and exclaimed: "Oh, Hannah, the young heir bowed to me, he did indeed!"
"He could do no less, since you looked at him so hard," replied the
sister gravely.
"But to me, Hannah, to me--just think of it! No one ever bowed to me
before, not even the negroes! and to think of him--Mr. Brudenell--bowing
to me--me!"
"I tell you he could do no less; he caught you looking at him; to have
continued staring you in the face would have been rude; to have turned
abruptly away would have been equally so; gentlemen are never guilty of
rudeness, and Mr. Brudenell is a gentleman; therefore he bowed to you,
as I believe he would have bowed to a colored girl even."
"Oh, but he smiled! he smiled so warmly and brightly, just for all the
world like the sun shining out, and as if, as if--"
"As if what, you little goose?"
"Well, then, as if he was pleased."
"It was because he was amused; he was laughing at you, you silly child!"
"Do you think so?" asked Nora, with a sudden change of tone from gay to
grave.
"I am quite sure of it, dear," replied the elder sister, speaking her
real opinion.
"Laughing at me," repeated Nora to herself, and she fell into thought.
Meanwhile, with a nod to one a smile to another and a word to a third,
the young heir and his party passed down the whole length of the room,
and retired through an upper door. As soon as they were gone the negro
fiddlers, six in number, led by Jovial, entered, took their seats, tuned
their instruments, and struck up a lively reel.
There was an, immediate stir; the rustic beaus sought their belles, and
sets were quickly formed.