Victor's Triumph. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth
any on us have such a thought as him going there to court the heiress, for ef you do, he's so high and mighty he'd see us all furder fust before he'd budge a step to go to Blue Cliffs, sister or no sister. So mind what I tell you, John."
"Mother, I will do all that is right," repeated John, with pompous dignity.
"I only hope as you will. And so good-night, my son," said the old woman, as she lighted her bed-room taper and left the room.
Laura came down-stairs early the next morning, and found her brother alone in the big parlor.
And then she showed him Emma Cavendish's letter.
And when he had read it through, she said, quite piteously:
"Alden, I do want to go back and spend the rest of the Easter holidays at Blue Cliffs, for I love Emma Cavendish better than anybody else in the whole world except yourself. And I hate to disappoint her. But I equally hate to leave you, Alden. So I do wish you would make up your mind to accept Mrs. Cavendish's invitation and accompany me to Blue Cliffs."
"Why-why-why of course he will go, Laura! Do you 'spect your own dear brother is a going to let you go off alone, by your own self, of a journey, when he's invi-vi-vited to go along of you?" exclaimed old Mrs. Lytton, who entered at that moment, and spoke up before Alden Lytton could either accept or refuse.
"Certainly he will. Why, nephew's a gentleman, I reckon, and he wouldn't refuse to escort his own dear sister, when he is requested to do so," added Uncle John, as he strode into the room.
Alden Lytton smiled and bowed.
In truth, now that the secret obstacle to his visit to Blue Cliffs was removed by the departure of Mrs. Grey for an indefinitely long absence, he felt no objection at all to accompanying his sister thither. So, still smiling, he answered:
"Why, you all seem to think that I shall make some difficulty about complying with my sister's wishes. But I shall do nothing of the sort. On the contrary, I shall attend my sister with great pleasure."
"That's you!" exclaimed old Mrs. Lytton.
"Bully boy!" heartily cried Uncle Jacky.
"I thank you, Alden," said Laura, quietly, giving him her hand.
"Yes, that's all very well; but—" began Charley, who had joined the circle.
"But what? What's the matter with you?" demanded his father.
Charley, seeing all eyes turned upon him, and most especially Laura's, blushed crimson and remained silent.
"I had arranged to go with Charley this morning to fish for trout in the Mad River," laughingly explained Alden.
"Oh, well, it can't be helped! You feel disappointed, of course, my boy; but everything must give way to the will of the ladies, Charley. 'All the Lyttons are gallant and chivalrous gentlemen,'" said Uncle Jacky, proudly, quoting the words of Emma's letter. "And we are no exception to the rule. Miss Cavendish is anxious for the society of Laura. Laura wishes the escort of her brother, who has also been invited to Blue Cliffs. We must not oppose the will of the ladies," concluded John, bowing to his niece with pompous deference.
Poor Charley blushed purpler than ever, and holding down his red head—like his father's—he mumbled something about "not wishing to oppose no ladies whatsoever."
"Now, then, what time are you expected at Blue Cliffs?" inquired Uncle Jacky, turning to Laura.
"This evening, uncle. Don't you remember? You read the letter."
"Oh, yes! Well, then, you needn't leave till after dinner, Kitty," he called to his wife, "order dinner for twelve o'clock noon, sharp! I want Alden and Laura, if they must leave, to go with full stomachs: do you hear?"
"Why of course, Jacky! Don't we always have dinner at twelve o'clock?" laughingly inquired Aunt Kitty.
"Well, then, mind that to-day a'n't an exception to the rule. Now where's that boy Taters?"
"Here I am, Marse John," said Mithridates, making his appearance with an armful of wood, which he threw upon the fire; for the April morning was chilly.
"Taters," said Uncle John, "you see to having the pony-chaise at the door at half-past twelve precisely to take Mr. Alden and Miss Laura to Blue Cliffs."
"Yes, Marse John."
"And, Taters, you saddle Brown Bill to ride and wait on them. You hear?"
Taters turned dark-gray and staggered to a chair and sat down.
"Why, what's the matter with the fool now?" demanded Uncle John.
"Oh, Marse John, don't send me to Blue Cliffs no more, sir—please don't!"
"Why—why shouldn't I send you there, you idiot?"
"Oh, Marse John, I done see the sperrit of my young mist'ess there; and if I see it ag'in I shall die—'deed I shall, sir!" exclaimed the shuddering boy.
"What the mischief does he mean, Laura? You look as if you understood him," inquired John Lytton.
Laura laughingly told the story of the supposed spirit, adding that it must have been a pure hallucination on the part of the boy.
"Well, anyhow, I'll not send him with you if he's takin' to makin' a fool of himself. It wouldn't do, you know," said John.
"And really, uncle, we need no one at all as an outrider," said Laura.
After an early and substantial dinner, Alden and Laura took leave of their kind relatives and entered the pony-carriage, whose dashing little grays, driven by old Jerome, were to take them to Blue Cliffs.
But we must precede them thither, to find out what it was that had driven Mary Grey from the house in such very great haste.
Chapter VII.
A STARTLING EVENT.
What see you in these papers, that you lose
So much of your complexion? Look you how you change!
Your cheeks are paper!—why, what hear you there
That hath so cowarded and chased your blood
Out of appearance?
—Shakespeare.
It was on the evening of the very same day that saw the departure of Laura Lytton for Lytton Lodge that Peter, the post-office messenger of Blue Cliffs, returned from Wendover, bringing with him a well-filled mail-bag.
He took it into the drawing-room, where Miss Cavendish and her guests, the Rev. Dr. Jones, Miss Electra, and Mrs. Grey, were gathered around the center-table, under the light of the chandelier.
Emma Cavendish unlocked the mail-bag and turned its contents out upon the table.
"Newspapers and magazines only, I believe. No letters. Help yourselves, friends. There are paper-knives on the pen-tray. And in the absence of letters, there is a real pleasure in unfolding a fresh newspaper and cutting the leaves of a new magazine," said the young lady, as she returned the empty bag to the messenger.
But her companions tumbled over the mail still in the vain hope of finding letters.
"None for me; yet I did hope to get one from my new manager at Beresford Manors," muttered Dr. Jones, in a tone of disappointment.
"And none for me either, though I do think the girls at Mount Ascension might write to me," pouted Electra.
"And of course there are none for me! There never are!