In the parlor Madam Byrd was yet at the harpsichord, but ceased to touch
the keys when her step-daughter, followed by Darden's Audrey, entered the
room. The master of Westover, seated beside his young wife, looked quickly
up, arched his brows and turned somewhat red, as his daughter, with her
gliding step, crossed the room to greet him. Audrey, obeying a motion of
her companion's hand, waited beside a window, in the shadow of its heavy
curtains. "Evelyn," quoth the Colonel, rising from his chair and taking
his daughter's hand, "this is scarce befitting"-Evelyn stayed his further speech by an appealing gesture. "Let me speak
with you, sir. No, no, madam, do not go! There is naught the world might
not hear."
Audrey waited in the shadow by the window, and her mind was busy, for she
had her plans to lay. Sometimes Evelyn's low voice, sometimes the
Colonel's deeper tones, pierced her understanding; when this was so she
moved restlessly, wishing that it were night and she away. Presently she
began to observe the room, which was richly furnished. There were garlands
upon the ceiling; a table near her was set with many curious ornaments;
upon a tall cabinet stood a bowl of yellow flowers; the lady at the
harpsichord wore a dress to match the flowers, while Evelyn's dress was
white; beyond them was a pier glass finer than the one at Fair View.
This glass reflected the doorway, and thus she was the first to see the
man from whom she had fled. "Mr. Marmaduke Haward, massa!" announced the
servant who had ushered him through the hall.
Haward, hat in hand, entered the room. The three beside the harpsichord
arose; the one at the window slipped deeper into the shadow of the
curtains, and so escaped the visitor's observation. The latter bowed to
the master of Westover, who ceremoniously returned the salute, and to the
two ladies, who curtsied to him, but opened not their lips.
"This, sir," said Colonel Byrd, holding himself very erect, "is an
unexpected honor."
"Rather, sir, an unwished-for intrusion," answered the other. "I beg you
to believe that I will trouble you for no longer time than matters
require."
The Colonel bit his lip. "There was a time when Mr. Haward was most
welcome to my house. If 't is no longer thus"-Haward made a gesture of assent. "I know that the time is past. I am sorry
that 't is so. I had thought, sir, to find you alone. Am I to speak before
these ladies?"
The Colonel hesitated, but Evelyn, leaving Madam Byrd beside the
harpsichord, came to her father's side. That gentleman glanced at her
keenly. There was no agitation to mar the pensive loveliness of her face;
her eyes were steadfast, the lips faintly smiling. "If what you have to
say concerns my daughter," said the Colonel, "she will listen to you here
and now."