"Hear me out, my darling! Hi! look at that rise of blue necks! If Anglesea were only here with his gun and dogs! He is a famous shot, my dear! Where was I? Oh! I say, as for myself, I am quite satisfied to receive Anglesea as my son-in-law. He is of n.o.ble race--there is a marquisate in the family, though too far removed to do him much good, except in the honor of the connection. He is of moderate fortune, very moderate; but wealth should not be the first consideration, you know! He is a fine, n.o.ble, generous, chivalrous fellow, and I like and admire him. And more than this--more than all else, he is my dear daughter's choice, and as such I shall welcome him into the family circle."

"Oh, papa, papa!" moaned Odalite, pierced through the heart by the thought of how little her father knew of the real character of the man, the real circ.u.mstances of the case, and how impossible it was for her to enlighten him.

"Still so grave, my little one? It is of Leonidas you are thinking! Do not fret your tender heart about him, my darling girl! If you, after three years separation from your boyish lover, have changed toward him--of which, in your secluded home, there was about one chance in a hundred of your doing--be sure that he, in his long absence from his childish sweetheart, on his long cruise around the world, has half forgotten the baby girl he left behind--as there must have been a hundred chances to one that he would. I think he will in time be able to console himself with your sister. It is all in the family, you know!" he said, looking down quizzically at the young face by his side.

But, somehow, the expression of that face did not convey the idea of any great satisfaction. Quite the contrary. Odalite looked ready to cry.

"I do believe girls, with their lovers, are like dogs in the manger; they can't marry them all, and yet they are not willing that any other girl should have any of the rejected ones! Sweet angel!--the girl of the nineteenth century!"

"I do not think," murmured Odalite, breaking in upon her father's silent criticism--"I do not think, judging from Le's letters, that he has ever changed toward me. No, papa, I do not wish to justify myself by accusing Le."

"Le's letters, my dear! Why, they afford the strongest proofs to my mind that he is not, and never has been, the least bit in love with you."

Odalite looked up in surprise.

"My dear, you have no experience, or you would never mistake Le's practical epistles for love letters. Why, you let all the family read them! You could not if they were love letters."

"Why, papa?"

"Because, my dear, if they were, they would be much too silly to be shown.

You would not think so; but you would have sense enough left to know that other people would; and so you would hide them. But Le's letters are laudably practical and fit to be shown to a deacon, as, for instance, this:

"'Tell Beever he can stay on as overseer as long as you please; so he must look out and please you. Tell him I don't know anything about the relative merits of Durham or Alderney breeds of cattle, or Southdown sheep, or anything of that sort. I took my degree at a naval academy, not at an agricultural college. So you just buy what stock you like best, and if you don't know any better than I do, ask your father. He does.'

"That's the sort of love letters Le writes to you, my dear! A letter that he might have written to his attorney or to his overseer!"

"And yet, showing in every line, in every word, his constant consideration for me, his wish to defer everything to me," sighed Odalite.

"Showing the carelessness of the sailor, rather than the devotion of the lover! But look you here, my little girl! How is this? Grieving--actually grieving for Le, while you are loving and engaging to marry Anglesea? I do not understand it!"

"Oh, papa! It is only that I wish to be just to Le! And I wish you to be just to him. However you may blame my fickleness, do not blame him; he has not changed!"

"Tut, tut, my dear! Young naval officers sailing all over the world, seeing all sorts of beautiful and attractive women of all races and nations, do not break their hearts about little, childish sweethearts left in their country homes, and whom they have not seen for years! Midshipman Leonidas Force, if he aspires to marry one of my daughters, must put up with the second Miss Force! Ay, and must wait until she is of suitable age! Now let us talk about the wedding! The colonel--he is something like a lover!--wants it to come off as soon as may be, before Christmas, if possible! What do you say, my dear?" inquired the squire, just to divert his daughter's mind from what he considered a morbid and painful compa.s.sion for the discarded lover's wrongs.

"It shall be just as my mother pleases, sir! I should like to leave everything to her," replied Odalite.

"That is quite right. The mother is the proper one, of course. Well, talk to her, my precious, and whatever arrangements you two agree upon I shall indorse. It seems to be clouding up. I should not wonder if we were to have snow before night. Shall we turn homeward?"

"Yes, if you please, papa."

"Oh! look at those wild turkeys! What a splendid chance for a shot, if I only had my fowling piece. Strange that I only have such chances when I have no gun--and consequently no chance at all!" laughed the squire, as they turned to go up the hill.

They reached the house just as the first fine flakes of snow began to fall.

"It will be a white Christmas, with fine sleighing, after all, perhaps,"

said the squire, cheerily, as they entered the house.

"Dinner has been waiting full half an hour, papa. And I would like to know where you and Odalite have been gadding to without saying a word to anybody. And I would like also to know--oh! how I should like to know--what has come to everybody in the house, that n.o.body but Elva and I and Miss Meeke have any common sense left!" exclaimed Wynnette, meeting the returning couple.

"Whereas the simple and exact truth is, that you three are the real and only lunatics in the house, and, like all lunatics, think everybody else but yourselves mad," laughed the squire, as he led his eldest daughter straight to the dining room.

CHAPTER XII

ODALITE AND LEONIDAS

Before the week was ended Wynnette, as well as every other member of the family, knew "what was the matter."

Beever, the overseer of Greenbushes, came to consult Miss Force about the size and quality of the Persian rugs to be bought for the bedrooms of the farmhouse.

And Mr. Force, in the presence of the whole family, said that henceforth all these consultations were to be suspended, as Miss Force had nothing further to do with the fitting up of the house.

This caused much surprise, not only to the overseer, but to Wynnette and Elva, who became importunate in their inquiries, and in a manner compelled an explanation.

Great was the indignation of those two young ladies on learning that their dear Le was to be "thrown over" for the sake of that "big, yellow dog,"

Col. Anglesea.

Wynnette and Elva went off to take secret counsel together.

Wynnette declared that she meant to talk to Odalite about it, and also to Col. Anglesea, and to tell him, if need were, that he was no gentleman to come into the house to cut out--

"No, I won't say 'cut out,' either, for it is vulgar; I will say supplant--that is the word, and I will say something better than I first thought of, too! I will stand straight up before him and lift up my head and look him straight in the face, and I will say to him:

"'Col. Angus Anglesea, do you consider it conduct becoming an officer and a gentleman to come into this house to supplant a gallant young midshipman, who is serving his country, in the affections of his betrothed bride?'"

"Oh! that will be splendid, Wynnette! What book did you get it out of?"

innocently inquired Elva.

"'Book?' No book! Every good thing I say you think comes out of a book; but it came out of my own head."

"What a splendid head you have, Wynnette!"

"Yes. I guess people will find that out some of these days."

"Col. Anglesea will, won't he? Now you say that to him, Wynnette! Just as you said it to me!"

"That will fetch him! No, not 'fetch him'--that is vulgar, too. Make an impression on him--that is what I mean, Elva."

"Yes; and I do just think that he would feel so ashamed of himself that he would turn right around and go home!"

"I hope he may!" said Wynnette.

"But if he should stay and marry Odalite, in spite of all, oh! what will poor Le do?" said compa.s.sionate little Elva.

"Don't know, I'm sure; but I know what I would do."