“Your good health, my daughter; and yours, Mr. Whitford,” bowing to her companion also.

The momentary spell was broken.  Blanche smiled back upon her father and raised the glass to her lips.  The lights in the room seemed to Ellis to flash up again and blaze with a higher brilliancy.  Never had the taste of wine seemed more delicious.  What a warm thrill ran along his nerves!  What a fine exhilaration quickened in his brain!  The shadow which a moment before had cast a veil over the face of Blanche he saw no longer.  It had vanished, or his vision was not now clear enough to discern its subtle texture.

“Take good care of Blanche,” said Mr. Birtwell, in a light voice.  “And you, pet, see that Mr. Whitford enjoys himself.”

Blanche did not reply.  Her father turned away.  Eyes not veiled as Whitford’s now were would have seen that the filmy cloud which had come over her face a little while before was less transparent, and sensibly dimmed its brightness.

Scarcely had Mr. Birtwell left them when Mr. Elliott, who had only a little while before heard of their engagement, said to Blanche in an undertone, and with one of his sweet paternal smiles: 

“I must take a glass of wine with you, dear, in, commemoration of the happy event.”

Mr. Elliott had not meant to include young Whitford in the invitation.  The latter had spoken to a lady acquaintance who stood near him, and was saying a few words to her, thus disengaging Blanche.  But observing that Mr. Elliott was talking to Blanche, he turned from the lady and joined her again.  And, so Mr. Elliott had to say: 

“We are going to have a glass of wine in honor of the auspicious event.”

Three glasses were filled by the clergyman, and then he stood face to face with the young man and maiden, and each of them, as he said in a low, professional voice, meant for their ears alone, “Peace and blessing, my children!” drank to the sentiment.  Whitford drained his glass, but Blanche only tasted the wine in hers.

Mr. Elliott stood for a few moments, conscious that something was out of accord.  Then he remembered his conversation with Dr. Hillhouse a little while before, and felt an instant regret.  He had noted the manner of Whitford as he drank, and the manner of Blanche as she put the wine to her lips.  In the one case was an enjoyable eagerness, and in the other constraint.  Something in the expression of the girl’s face haunted and troubled him a long time afterward.

“Our young friend is getting rather gay,” said Dr. Hillhouse to Mr. Elliott, half an hour afterward.  He referred to Ellis Whitford, who was talking and laughing in a way that to some seemed a little too loud and boisterous.  “I’m afraid for him,” he added.

“Ah, yes!  I remember what you were saying about his two grandfathers,” returned the clergyman.  “And you really think he may inherit something from them?”

“Don’t you?” asked the doctor.