Upon their return, two or three hours later, while still at a little
distance from the house, they saw Mr. Underwood and a stranger standing
together on the veranda. The latter, who was apparently about to take
his departure, and whom Darrell at once assumed to be Mr. Walcott, was
about thirty years of age, of medium height, with a finely proportioned
and rather muscular form, erect and dignified in his bearing, with a
lithe suppleness and grace in all his movements. He was standing with
his hat in his hand, and Darrell, who had time to observe him closely,
noting his jet-black hair, close cut excepting where it curled slightly
over his forehead, his black, silky moustache, and the oval contour of
his olive face, remembered Mr. Underwood's remark of the probability of
Spanish blood in his veins.
As they came near, Duke gave a low growl, but Kate instantly hushed him,
chiding him for his rudeness. At the sound, the stranger turned towards
them, and Mr. Underwood at once introduced Mr. Walcott to his daughter
and Mr. Darrell. He greeted them both with the most punctilious
courtesy, but as he faced Darrell, the latter saw for an instant in the
half-closed, blue-black eyes, the pity tinged with contempt to which he
had long since become accustomed, yet which, as often as he met it,
thrilled him anew with pain. The look passed, however, and Mr. Walcott,
in low, well-modulated tones, conversed pleasantly for a few moments
with the new-comers, the three young people forming a striking trio as
they stood there in the bright sunshine amid the June roses; then, with
a graceful adieu, he walked swiftly away.
As soon as he was out of hearing Mr. Underwood, turning to Darrell,
said,-"It is decided; the papers will be drawn to-morrow."
Then taking his daughter's flushed, perplexed face between his hands, he
said,-"Mr. Walcott and I are going into partnership; how do you like the looks
of my partner, Puss?"
She looked incredulous. "That young man your partner!" she exclaimed;
"why, he seems the very last man I should ever expect you to fancy!"
Then she added, laughing,-"Oh, papa, I think he must have hypnotized you! Does Aunt Marcia know?
May I tell her?" And, having gained his consent, she ran into the house
to impart the news to Mrs. Dean.
"That's the woman of it!" said Mr. Underwood, grimly; "they always want
to immediately tell some other woman! But what do you think of my
partner?" he asked, looking searchingly at Darrell, who had not yet
spoken.
Darrell did not reply at once; he felt in some way bewildered. All the
content, the joy, the sunshine of the last few hours seemed to have been
suddenly blotted out, though he could not have told why. The remembrance
of that glance still stung him, but aside from that, he felt his whole
soul filled with an inexplicable antagonism towards this man.