There was a small family apartment adjoining the room occupied by the
trio, and the air had blown open the door communicating between the two.
A fine young man was now seen sitting near the entrance, who, by his
smiling countenance, was evidently a pleased listener to the
conversation. He rose instantly, and coming through the door, with his
hat in his hand, appeared a tall, graceful youth, of dark complexion,
and sparkling eyes of black, from which the mirth had not entirely
vanished, as he made his bow to the ladies.
"Mr. Dunwoodie!" cried Sarah, in surprise; "I was ignorant of your being
in the house; you will find a cooler seat in this room."
"I thank you," replied the young man, "but I must go and seek your
brother, who placed me there in ambuscade, as he called it, with a
promise of returning an hour ago." Without making any further
explanation, the youth bowed politely to the young women, distantly and
with hauteur to the gentleman, and withdrew. Frances followed him into
the hall, and blushing richly, inquired, in a hurried voice,--
"But why--why do you leave us, Mr. Dunwoodie? Henry must soon return."
The gentleman caught one of her hands in his own, and the stern
expression of his countenance gave place to a look of admiration as he
replied,--
"You managed him famously, my dear little kinswoman; never--no, never,
forget the land of your birth; remember, if you are the granddaughter of
an Englishman, you are, also, the granddaughter of a Peyton.
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