evening. Yet he knew the difficulty of taking an aggressive attitude
toward his previous idol or of inviting a full explanation from her
then.
The guests, with the exception of himself and Miss Avondale, were all
English. She, self-possessed and charming in evening dress, nodded to
him with her usual mature patronage, but did not evince the least
desire to seek him for any confidential aside. He noticed the undoubted
resemblance of Sir William Dornton to his missing benefactor, and yet
it produced a singular repulsion in him, rather than any sympathetic
predilection. At table he found that Miss Avondale was separated from
him, being seated beside the distinguished guest, while he was placed
next to the young lady he had taken down--a Miss Eversleigh, the cousin
of Sir William. She was tall, and Randolph's first impression of her was
that she was stiff and constrained--an impression he quickly corrected
at the sound of her voice, her frank ingenuousness, and her unmistakable
youth. In the habit of being crushed by Miss Avondale's unrelenting
superiority, he found himself apparently growing up beside this tall
English girl, who had the naivete of a child. After a few commonplaces
she suddenly turned her gray eyes on his, and said,--
"Didn't you like Jack? I hope you did. Oh, say you did--do!"
"You mean Captain John Dornton?" said Randolph, a little confused.
"Yes, of course; HIS brother"--glancing toward Sir William. "We always
called him Jack, though I was ever so little when he went away. No one
thought of calling him anything else but Jack. Say you liked him!"
"I certainly did," returned Randolph impulsively. Then checking himself,
he added, "I only saw him once, but I liked his face and manner--and--he
was very kind to me."
"Of course he was," said the young girl quickly. "That was only like
him, and yet"--lowering her voice slightly--"would you believe that
they all say he was wild and wicked and dissipated? And why? Fancy! Just
because he didn't care to stay at home and shoot and hunt and race and
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