Lord Montague was, of course, a favorite, in demand for all functions, and in request for the private and intimate entertainments.  He was an authority in the stables and the kennels, and an eager comrade in all the sports of the island.  His easy manner, his self-possession everywhere, even his slangy talk, were accepted as evidence that he was above conventionalities.  “The little man isn’t a beauty,” said Sally McTabb, “but he shows ‘race.’” He might be eccentric, but when you came to know him you couldn’t help liking the embryo duke in him.

In fact, things were going very well with Mrs. Mavick, except in her own household.  There was something there that did not yield, that did not flow with her plans.  With Lord Montague she was on the most intimate and confidential relations.  He was almost daily at the house.  Often she drove with him; frequently Evelyn was with them.  Indeed, the three came to be associated in the public mind.  There could be no doubt of the intentions of the young nobleman.  That he could meet any opposition was not conceived.

The noble lord, since they had been in Newport, had freely opened his mind to Mrs. Mavick, and on a fit occasion had formally requested her daughter’s hand.  Needless to say that he was accepted.  Nay, more, he felt that he was trusted like a son.  He was given every opportunity to press his suit.  Somewhat to his surprise, he did not appear to make much headway.  He was rarely able to see her alone, even for a moment.  Such evasiveness in a young girl to a man of his rank astonished him.  There could be no reason for it in himself; there must be some influence at work unknown to his social experience.

He did not reproach Mrs. Mavick with this, but he let her see that he was very much annoyed.

“If I had not your assurance to the contrary, Mrs. Mavick,” he said one day in a pet, “I should think she shunned me.”

“Oh, no, Lord Montague, that could not be.  I told you that she had had a peculiar education; she is perfectly ignorant of the world, she is shy, and—­well, for a girl in her position, she is unconventional.  She is so young that she does not yet understand what life is.”

“You mean she does not know what I offer her?”

“Why, my dear Lord Montague, did you ever offer her anything?”

“Not flat, no,” said my lord, hesitating.  “Every time I approach her she shies off like a young filly.  There is something I don’t understand.”

“Evelyn,” and Mrs. Mavick spoke with feeling, “is an affectionate and dutiful child.  She has never thought of marriage.  The prospect is all new to her.  But I am sure she would learn to love you if she knew you and her mind were once turned upon such a union.  My lord, why not say to her what you feel, and make the offer you intend?  You cannot expect a young girl to show her inclination before she is asked.”  And Mrs. Mavick laughed a little to dispel the seriousness.