approach the wonderful
creature, and yet with a sort of embarrassed feeling of being very
awkward and clumsy. He felt, somehow, as if he were a great, coarse
behemoth; his arms seemed to him awkward appendages; his hands
suddenly appeared to him rough, and his fingers swelled and stumpy.
When he thought of asking an introduction, he felt himself growing
very hot, and blushing to the roots of his hair.

"Want to be introduced to her, Seymour?" said Carryl Ethridge. "I'll
trot you up. I know her."

"No, thank you," said John, stiffly. In his heart, he felt an absurd
anger at Carryl for the easy, assured way in which he spoke of the
sacred creature who seemed to him something too divine to be lightly
talked of. And then he saw, Carryl marching up to her with his air
of easy assurance. He saw the bewitching smile come over that fair,
flowery face; he saw Carryl, with unabashed familiarity, take her fan
out of her hand, look at it as if it were a mere common, earthly fan,
toss it about, and pretend to fan himself with it.

"I didn't know he was such a puppy!" said John to himself, as he stood
in a sort of angry bashfulness, envying the man that was so familiar
with that loveliness.

[Illustration: "I didn't know he was such a puppy."]

Ah! John, John! You wouldn't, for the world, have told to man or woman
what a fool you were at that moment.

"What a fool I am!" was his mental commentary: "just as if it was
any thing to me." And he turned, and walked to the other end of the
veranda.

"I think you've hooked another fish, Lillie," said Belle Trevors in
the ear of the little divinity.

"Who...?"

"Why! that Seymour there, at the end of the veranda. He is looking at
you, do you know? He is rich, very rich, and of an old family. Didn't
you see how he started and looked after you when you came up on the
veranda?"

"Oh! I saw plain enough," said the divinity, with one of her
unconscious, baby-like smiles.

"What are you ladies talking?" said Carryl Ethridge.

"Oh, secrets!" said Belle Trevors. "You are very presuming, sir, to
inquire."

"Mr. Ethridge," said Lillie Ellis, "don't you think it would be nice
to promenade?"

This was said with such a pretty coolness, such a quiet composure, as
showed Miss Lillie to be quite mistress of the situation; there was,
of course, no sort of design in it.

Ethridge offered his arm at once; and the two sauntered to the end of
the veranda, where John Seymour was standing.