Part 68 (1/2)

”I say he is a ----! His mother was never married! and no one on earth knows who his father was--or if he ever had a father!” roared Alfred brutally.

Walter's arm closed convulsively upon Ishmael. There was good reason.

The boy had given one spasmodic bound forward, as if he would have throttled his adversary on the spot; but the restraining arm of Walter Middleton held him back; his face was pale as marble; a cold sweat had burst upon his brow; he was trembling in every limb as he gasped:

”Walter, this cannot be true! Oh, say it is not true!”

”True! no! I believe it is as false--as false as that young villain's heart! and nothing can be falser than that!” indignantly exclaimed young Middleton.

”It is! it is true! The whole county knows it is true!” vociferated Alfred. ”And if anybody here doubts it, let them ask old Hannah Worth if her nephew isn't a ----”

”Leave the room, sir!” exclaimed Walter, interrupting him before he could add another word. ”Your language and manners are so offensive as to render your presence entirely inadmissible here! Leave the room, instantly!”

”I won't!” said Alfred stoutly.

Walter was unwilling to release Ishmael from the tight, half-friendly, half-masterly embrace in which he held him; else, perhaps, he might himself have ejected the offender. As it was, he grimly repeated his demand.

”Will you leave the room?”

”No!” replied Alfred.

”James, do me the favor to ring the bell.”

James Middleton rang a peal that brought old Jovial quickly to the room.

”Jovial, will you go and ask your master if he will be kind enough to come here; his presence is very much needed,” said Walter.

Jovial bowed and withdrew.

”I shall go and complain to my father of the insults I have received!”

said Alfred, turning to leave the room; for he had evidently no wish to meet the impending interview with Mr. Middleton.

”I antic.i.p.ated that you would reconsider your resolution of remaining here!” laughed Walter, as he let this sarcasm off after his retreating foe.

He had scarcely disappeared through one door before Mr. Middleton entered at another.

”What is all this about, Walter?” he inquired, approaching the group of panic-stricken girls and wondering boys.

”Some new rudeness of Alfred Burghe, father; but he has just taken himself off, for which I thank him; so there is no use in saying more upon the subject for the present,” replied Walter.

”There is no use, in any case, to disturb the harmony of a festive evening, my son; all complaints may well be deferred until the morning, when I shall be ready to hear them,” replied Mr. Middleton, smiling, and never suspecting how serious the offense of Alfred Burghe had been.

”And now,” he continued, turning towards the band, ”strike up the music, professor! The summer evenings are short, and the young people must make the most of this one. Walter, my son, you are to open the ball with your cousin.”

”Thank you very much, uncle; thank you, Walter, but my hand is engaged for this set to Ishmael Worth; none but the winner of the first prize for me!” said Claudia gayly, veiling the kindness that prompted her to favor the mortified youth under a sportive a.s.sumption of vanity.

”Very well, then, where is the hero?” said Mr. Middleton.

But Ishmael had suddenly disappeared, and was nowhere to be found.

”Where is he, Walter? He was standing by you,” said Claudia.