ic are generally
ignorant. Juliet was not to be seen--that is, during the first part of
the evening, but towards its close she came into the room and showed
me that same confiding courtesy which I have noticed in her ever since
I ceased to be an aspirant for her hand. She was not so pale as on
that weird night when I saw her in the churchyard, and I thought her
step had a light spring in it which spoke of hope. She wore a gown
which was coquettishly simple, and the fresh flower clinging to her
bosom breathed a fragrance that might have intoxicated a man less
determined to be her friend. Her father saw us meet without any
evident anxiety; and if he was as complacent to Orrin when he was
here, then Orrin had a chance to touch her hand.
But was he as complacent to Orrin? That I could not find out. I am
only sure that I will be made welcome there again _if_ I confine my
visits to the father and do not seek anything more from Juliet than
that simple touch of her hand.
* * * * *
Orrin has not repeated his visit, but I have repeated mine. Why?
Because I am uneasy. Colonel Schuyler's house does not progress, and
whether there is any connection between this fact and that of Orrin's
sudden interest in the sawmills and quarries about here, I cannot
tell, but doubts of his loyalty will rise through all my friendship
for him, and I cannot keep away from Juliet any longer.
Does Juliet care for Colonel Schuyler? I have sometimes thought no,
and I have oftener thought yes. At all events she trembles when she
speaks of him, and shows emotion of no slight order when a letter of
his is suddenly put in her hand. I wish I could read her pretty,
changeful face more readily. It would be a comfort for me to know that
she saw her own way clearly, and was not disturbed by Orrin's comings
and goings. For Orrin is not a safe man, I fear, and a faith once
pledged to Colonel Schuyler should be kept.
I do not think Juliet understands just how great a man Colonel
Schuyler promises to be. When her father told me to-night that his
daughter's betrothed had been charged with some very important
business for the Government, her pretty lip pouted like a child's. Yet
she flushed, and for a minute looked pleased when I said, "That is a
road which leads to Washington. We shall hear of you yet as being
presented at the White House."
I think her father anticipates the same. For he told me a few minutes
later that he h
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