"
"Nor I; yet I shall investigate a bit to-night at Augusta's."
"Clara tells me that when Miss Ercildoune understood it was to be a
great party, she insisted on ending her visit, or, at least, staying for
a while with her aunt, but they would not hear of it."
"Mrs. Lancaster goes back to England soon?"
"Very soon."
"Does any one know aught of Miss Ercildoune's family save that Mrs.
Lancaster is her aunt?"
"If 'any one' means me, I understand her father to be a gentleman of
elegant leisure,--his home near Philadelphia; a widower, with one other
child,--a son, I believe; that his wife was English, married abroad;
that Mrs. Lancaster comes here with the best of letters, and, for
herself, is most evidently a lady."
"Good. Now I shall take a survey of the young lady herself."
When night came, and with it a crowd to Mrs. Russell's rooms, the
opportunity offered for the survey, and it was made scrutinizingly.
Surrey was an only son, a well-beloved one, and what concerned him was
investigated with utmost care.
Scrutinizingly and satisfactorily. They were dancing, his sunny head
bent till it almost touched the silky blackness of her hair. "Saxon and
Norman," said somebody near who was watching them; "what a delicious
contrast!"
"They make an exquisite picture," thought the mother, as she looked
with delight and dread: delight at the beauty; dread that fills the soul
of any mother when she feels that she no longer holds her boy,--that his
life has another keeper,--and queries, "What of the keeper?"
"Well?" she said, looking up at her husband.
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