CHAPTER XXVI.
Frank Hinton was walking up and down the pretty cottage parlor, all ready for the dancing-party. He was a handsome young fellow, not small and fair like his older brother, but tall and broad-shouldered, with brown eyes and hair like Emmie, and a pretty silky mustache outlining his upper lip. Frank was studying medicine, and expected soon to add M. D. to his name.
As he walked up and down the small parlor’s length with his hands under his coat-tails, Frank was indulging, like Hamlet, in a soliloquy:
“Deuce take it! I wonder if Maude feels cut up over this? I’m afraid I certainly gave her cause to think I was serious in that quarter. Well, I was, too, or thought I was. But Thea wasn’t grown then. The minute I saw her when she got back from school, I knew it was all up with Maude. Dear Little Sweetheart! I almost think it was mutual, too. How plainly she shows her preference for me. And how furious it makes Tom. He’s dead gone on her, I know, but it’s no use. He can have Maude if he likes. Sweetheart’s mine, and I haven’t made myself a calf over her like Tom and some other fellows either. I— What’s that?”
There was a rush of feet down the slippery oil-cloth of the stairway, the door was pushed violently open, and Thea West bounced into the room.
When she saw Frank standing there alone in the room, so handsome and smiling, in his black evening-dress, with a rose in his button-hole, her blue eyes flashed with returning fire. She ran up and laid her slim, ringless white hand impetuously on his arm, demanding, breathlessly:
“Frank Hinton, have you gone crazy like the rest, or can you listen to what I’ve come to say?”
He saw at once that something had gone wrong, but he answered, lightly:
“Say on, Sweetheart.”
“It is only this,” said Thea. “I release you from your promise to take me to the dance. You can go with Maude Fitz.”
“Up—on—my—word!” ejaculated the astonished young man.
“I—I—was only joking, Frank, when I asked you to gowith me,” pursued Thea. “You—you—didn’t think I was in earnest, did you, Frank?” eagerly.
“Of course I thought so. You were, too. You don’t think you can throw me over at this late hour, do you?” Frank laughed, and clasped his hand over the slim one on his arm with quite an air of possession.
Thea flushed slightly. She made a feint of drawing the hand away.
“I’m not going with you. I—I—didn’t mean to go at first. It was only fun. You know Maude wouldn’t like it. She mightn’t think I was just like a sister to you, Frank.”
Frank Hinton flushed and held tight to her hand.
“What are you driving at, my dear?” he asked, a little roughly. “Of course Maude won’t think you’re like my sister. She knows better. What has she got to do with you and me, anyhow?”
“You’re as good as engaged to her, aren’t you, Frank?” a little wistfully.
“Good heavens, no! I never thought of such a thing.”
“But Emmie says you are. And so maybe Maude might get jealous of me; that’s all, Frank, only I’m in earnest; you can’t take me to the dance,” nodding her bright head decidedly, and trying in earnest now to pull away the hand he held so tightly.
But Frank tried to draw her closer to him, while he said, indignantly:
“I wish Emmie’d mind her own business, and look after Charley McVey instead of me. I think he needs watching. I’m not engaged to Maude Fitz, and never will be engaged to anybody unless it’s you, Little Sweetheart.”
“Quit your joking; I don’t admire it,” Thea answered, a little shortly; “and let go my hand, Frank Hinton. It don’t belong to you.”
“But mayn’t I have it, darling—say, mayn’t I have it?” whispered the young man, eagerly, his eyes gleaming with sudden passion, his voice vibrant with emotion that made her draw back further with a sort of dawning terror, and exclaim in a scared voice:
“Let me go at once, I tell you. I’m not in the mood for fun. I can’t bear it.”
Her face was deathly white, her blue eyes flashing, but he would not let her go.
“This is no fun, but earnest,” he said, with sudden gravity. “Listen, darling—I love you. Of course you know thatalready, but will you love me in return—will you promise to be Frank’s little wife?”
The honest, manly tone left no room for doubt. Thea stared at him in angry disgust.
“You are crazy, too—as crazy as Tom!” she cried, indignantly. “And to think how I fooled myself! I loved you like a brother, and all the while you had this foolishness in your mind. Why, Frank Hinton, I wouldn’t marry a king—there now!”
“I know; but maybe you will marry me,” said the young fellow, pleadingly. “I love you so dearly, Sweetheart, and I certainly thought you encouraged me. You made so much of me—you seemed to enjoy being with me so much, and—”
“Oh, hush!” she interrupted, eagerly. “I am sorry, Frank; indeed, I am sorry, for now I see that you have deceived yourself. I am fond of you—just as Emmie is, you know—that kind of a love; but if I loved you that other way,” trippingly, “I—I—don’t think I should make so much of you. I mean, I—I—don’t think I’d want you to guess my—my—feelings,” blushing as if with some subtle perception of the master-passion her innocent heart had never known.
“Go away, you miserable little flirt! I feel like I hated you!” Frank cried, flinging the white hand roughly from him, and turning away in bitter anger.