“My Dutch friend? Oh—you are talking about Mr. van Tuiver?”
“You’ve heard about him?” said the other, without heeding her friend’s humor.
“Heard about him! For heaven’s sake, what else can one hear about in Castleman County just now?”
Sylvia said nothing for a while. “I suppose,” she remarked, at last, “it’s because I came in a special train.”
“My dear,” said the other, “it’s because _he_ came in a special train.”
And her friend stared at her. “Good Lord,” she said, “I believe you really don’t know that Mr. van Tuiver’s in town!”
Sylvia started as if she had been struck. “Mr. van Tuiver _in town_!” she gasped.
“Why, surely, honey—he’s been here three or four days. How they must be taking care of you!”
Sylvia sprang to her feet. “How perfectly outrageous!” she cried.
“What, Sunny? That you haven’t seen him?”
“But I’m not joking with you,” said Harriet, bewildered. “What in the world is the matter?”
Sylvia’s face was pale with anger. “I won’t see him! I won’t see him! He has no right to come here!”
“But Sunny—what’s the matter? What’s the man done?”
“He wants to marry me, Harriet, and he’s come here—oh, how shameful! how insulting! At such a time as this!”
“But I should think this was just the time for him to come!” said Harriet, laughing in spite of herself. “Surely, Sylvia, if you haven’t gone formally into mourning——”
“I won’t see him!” cried the other, passionately. “He must be made to understand it at once—he’ll gain nothing by coming here!”
“But, Sunny,” suggested her friend, “hadn’t you better wait until he _tries_ to see you?”
“With Aunt Nannie!” Sylvia stood, staring at Harriet with sudden fear in her face. She saw now why van Tuiver had made no attempt to see her, why nothing had been said to her as yet! She clenched her hands tightly and exclaimed, “I won’t marry him! They sha’n’t sell me to him—they sha’n’t, they sha’n’t!”
Her friend was gazing at her in wonder, not unmixed with alarm. “Good God, Sunny,” she exclaimed, “can he be so bad that you’d refuse to marry him?”
All this while, you must understand, there was Sylvia’s “world” outside, looking on at the drama—pitying, wondering, gossiping, speculating. Frank arrested, Frank out on bail! Frank let off with a fine, because the man did not die! Frank leaving college and coming back to his plantation! Would he try to see Sylvia, and what would Sylvia do about it? Would Mandeville Castleman carry out his threat to shoot him? How was Sylvia taking it, anyway? Would she be seen at the next club-dance? And then—interest piled upon interest—Douglas van Tuiver had come! Was it true that the Yankee Crœsus wanted to marry Sylvia? Was it true that he had already asked her? Could it be that she had actually refused to see him? And what would the family do about that?—All this, you understand, most decorously, most discreetly—and yet with such thrills, such sensations!