Audrey

In the parlor Madam Byrd was yet at the harpsichord, but ceased to touch

the keys when her step-daughter, followed by Darden's Audrey, entered the

room. The master of Westover, seated beside his young wife, looked quickly

up, arched his brows and turned somewhat red, as his daughter, with her

gliding step, crossed the room to greet him. Audrey, obeying a motion of

her companion's hand, waited beside a window, in the shadow of its heavy

curtains. "Evelyn," quoth the Colonel, rising from his chair and taking

his daughter's hand, "this is scarce befitting"-Evelyn stayed his further speech by an appealing gesture. "Let me speak

with you, sir. No, no, madam, do not go! There is naught the world might

not hear."

Audrey waited in the shadow by the window, and her mind was busy, for she

had her plans to lay. Sometimes Evelyn's low voice, sometimes the

Colonel's deeper tones, pierced her understanding; when this was so she

moved restlessly, wishing that it were night and she away. Presently she

began to observe the room, which was richly furnished. There were garlands

upon the ceiling; a table near her was set with many curious ornaments;

upon a tall cabinet stood a bowl of yellow flowers; the lady at the

harpsichord wore a dress to match the flowers, while Evelyn's dress was

white; beyond them was a pier glass finer than the one at Fair View.

This glass reflected the doorway, and thus she was the first to see the

man from whom she had fled. "Mr. Marmaduke Haward, massa!" announced the

servant who had ushered him through the hall.

Haward, hat in hand, entered the room. The three beside the harpsichord

arose; the one at the window slipped deeper into the shadow of the

curtains, and so escaped the visitor's observation. The latter bowed to

the master of Westover, who ceremoniously returned the salute, and to the

two ladies, who curtsied to him, but opened not their lips.

"This, sir," said Colonel Byrd, holding himself very erect, "is an

unexpected honor."

"Rather, sir, an unwished-for intrusion," answered the other. "I beg you

to believe that I will trouble you for no longer time than matters

require."

The Colonel bit his lip. "There was a time when Mr. Haward was most

welcome to my house. If 't is no longer thus"-Haward made a gesture of assent. "I know that the time is past. I am sorry

that 't is so. I had thought, sir, to find you alone. Am I to speak before

these ladies?"

The Colonel hesitated, but Evelyn, leaving Madam Byrd beside the

harpsichord, came to her father's side. That gentleman glanced at her

keenly. There was no agitation to mar the pensive loveliness of her face;

her eyes were steadfast, the lips faintly smiling. "If what you have to

say concerns my daughter," said the Colonel, "she will listen to you here

and now."