“Oh, no, mother, he won’t want to pay such a long call.”

“Well, he’s a nice young man.  I have nothing to say against him, he carries himself nearly as upright as your poor father did, and he has a pleasant, affable way with old and young alike.  I haven’t a word to say against the young man, not a word.  When he comes I’ll just step into the garden, for you two young things would rather have your chatter alone.  Oh, you needn’t tell me, Trixie, I know.  I was young once, and I never cared to have my nonsense listened to.  By the way, I might ask Captain Bertram to take a box of Eleazer’s Life-pills to his poor mother.  I was recommending them to her, and I’m convinced they are just the medicine for her complaint.  And, Bee, I wish you’d remind me to tell Jane to send over a jug of buttermilk to the Bells.  I did think that poor child Matty looked so frightfully burnt yesterday, and there’s nothing like bathing the face and neck in buttermilk, to get rid of the ugly redness.  My word, child, is that a ring at the hall door?  Then I’ll be off, but I’ll be in the garden handy within call, in case you should want me, my pet.”

As Captain Bertram entered the drawing-room Mrs. Meadowsweet’s trailing skirts might have been seen disappearing down the steps which led from the French window to the garden.  Beatrice said to herself with an inward smile: 

“From the dear old mother’s way, any one would suppose I was going to receive a lover,” and then she raised her eyes, and a very lover-like gaze met hers.

The expression in Captain Bertram’s dark eyes joined to the thought which had flown into her heart, made the young girl flush up almost painfully.  This sudden blush caused the gallant wooer’s heart to beat with rapture, and he instantly changed his tactics and resolved, instead of giving Beatrice a half confidence with regard to his troubles, to take the apparently unapproachable fortress by storm.

“I had a long story to tell you, but I find I can’t tell it,” he said.

Then he looked at her again, as he knew how momentous were the words which must follow, he turned pale.

“Sit down,” said Beatrice.  “Come over to the window and sit down.  We have such a pretty view of the garden from here.  Mother and I are very proud of our garden.”

“Are you?  Miss Meadowsweet, I want to say something.  Look at me, will you look at me?”

“Of course I will.  I expected you to say something when you called this morning.  You had some sort of trouble you wanted to confide in me.  What is the matter?”

“I don’t feel now as if I had any trouble to confide in you.  I can only say one thing.”

Beatrice began to wish that her mother had not left the drawing-room.  She moved forward as if to step through the open French window.

“And I must tell you this thing,” pursued the captain’s voice.

Its tone arrested her.

“But I am mad to say it.”