"
Hawbury started to his feet, and stared in silence at his friend for
several minutes.
"By Jove!" he cried; "if I thought that, I swear I'd start for home
this evening, and hunt about every where for the representatives of
the Orne family. But no--surely it can't be possible."
"Were you in London last season?"
"No."
"Well, how do you know but that she was there?"
"By Jove!"
"And the belle of the season, too?"
"She would be if she were there, by Jove!"
"Yes, if there wasn't another present that I wot of."
"Well, we won't argue about that; besides, I haven't come to the point
yet."
"The point?"
"Yes, the real reason why I'm here, when I'm wanted home."
"The real reason? Why, haven't you been telling it to me all along?"
"Well, no; I haven't got to the point yet."
"Drive on, then, old man."
"Well, you know," continued Hawbury, "after hunting all through Canada
I gave up in despair, and concluded that Ethel was lost to me, at
least for the present. That was only about six or seven months ago. So
I went home, and spent a month in a shooting-box on the Highlands;
then I went to Ireland to visit a friend; and then to London. While
there I got a long letter from my mother. The good soul was convinced
that I was wasting my life; she urged me to settle down, and finally
informed me that she had selected a wife for me. Now I want you to
understand, old boy, that I fully appreciated my mother's motives. She
was quite right, I dare say, about my wasting my life; quite right,
too, about the benefit of settling down; and she was also very kind to
take all the trouble of selecting a wife off my hands.
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