'I left him in Olive's room, my dear;' and as Richard frowned, 'Olive has been making herself ill with crying, and has a dreadful headache, and Roy was kind enough to go and cheer her up.'
No answer, only the scratching of the quill pen rapidly traversing the paper.
Mildred stood irresolute for a moment and watched him; there was no softening of the fine young face. Chriss was right when she said Richard's lips closed as though they were iron.
'I was sorry to hear what an uncomfortable evening you all had last night, Richard. I should hardly have enjoyed myself, if I had known how things were at home.'
'Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. I am glad you had a pleasant evening, Aunt Milly. I was sorry I could not meet you. I told Rex to go.'
'I found Rex kicking up his heels in the porch instead. Never mind,' as Richard looked annoyed. 'Dr. Heriot brought me home. But, Richard, dear, I am more sorry than I can say about this sad misunderstanding between you and Olive.'
'Aunt Milly, excuse me, but the less said about that the better.'
'Poor girl! I know how her interference has offended you; it was ill-judged, but, indeed, it was well meant. You have no conception, Richard, how dearly Olive loves you.'
The pen remained poised above the paper a moment, and then, in spite of his effort, the pent-up storm burst forth.
'Interference! unwarrantable impertinence! How dare she betray me to my father?'
'The very thing I was sparing him! The thing of all others I would not have had him know for worlds! How did she know? What right had she to guess my most private feelings! It is past all forbearance; it is enough to disgust one.'
'It is hard to bear, certainly; but, Richard, the fault is after all a trifling one; the worst construction one can put on it is error of judgment and a simple want of tact; she had no idea she was harming you.'
'Harming me!' still more stormily; 'I shall never get over it. I have lost caste in my father's opinion; how will he be ever able to trust me now? If she had but given me warning of her intention, I should not be in this position. All these months of labour gone for nothing. Questioned, treated as a child--but, were he twenty times my father, I should refuse to be catechised;' and Richard took up his pen again, and went on writing, but not before Mildred had seen positive tears of mortification had sprung to his eyes. They made her feel softer to him--such a lad, too--and motherless--and yet so hard and impracticable--mannish, indeed!'