“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how unkind I have been, and how cruelly I have wronged you!”

She pressed his hand between both her palms for a moment, and looked into his face, as if studying to read if some trace of resentment were not visible.  But the blue eyes looked down kindly and mournfully upon her, and bursting into tears, she turned from him, and hurriedly left the room.

CHAPTER III.

The incident related in the preceding chapter seemed to have effected a marked change in the demeanor of Oriana toward her brother’s guest.  She realized with painful force the wrong that her thoughtlessness, more than her malice, had inflicted on a noble character, and it required all of Arthur’s winning sweetness of disposition to remove from her mind the impression that she stood, while in his presence, in the light of an unforgiven culprit.  They were necessarily much in each other’s company, in the course of the many rambles and excursions that were devised to relieve the monotony of the old manor house, and Oriana was surprised to feel herself insensibly attracted toward the shy and pensive man, whose character, so far as it was betrayed by outward sign, was the very reverse of her own impassioned temperament.  She discovered that the unruffled surface covered an under-current of pure thought and exquisite feeling, and when, on the bosom of the river, or in the solitudes of the forest, his spirit threw off its reserve under the spell of nature’s inspiration, she felt her own impetuous organization rebuked and held in awe by the simple and quiet grandeur that his eloquence revealed.

One afternoon, some two weeks after his arrival at the Riverside manor, while returning from a canter in the neighborhood, they paused upon an eminence that overlooked a portion of the city of Richmond.  There, upon an open space, could be seen a great number of the citizens assembled, apparently listening to the harangue of an orator.  The occasional cheer that arose from the multitude faintly reached their ears, and that mass of humanity, restless, turbulent and excited, seemed, even at that distance, to be swayed by some mighty passion.

“Look, Miss Weems,” said Arthur, “at this magnificent circle of gorgeous scenery, that you are so justly proud of, that lies around you in the golden sunset like a dream of a fairy landscape.  See how the slanting rays just tip the crest of that distant ridge, making it glow like a coronet of gold, and then, leaping into the river beneath; spangle its bosom with dazzling sheen, save where a part rests in the purple shadow of the mountain.  Look to the right, and see how those crimson clouds seem bending from heaven to kiss the yellow corn-fields that stretch along the horizon.  And at your feet, the city of Richmond extends along the valley.”

“We admit the beauty of the scene and the accuracy of the description,” said Beverly, “but, for my part, I should prefer the less romantic view of some of Aunt Nancy’s batter-cakes, for this ride has famished me.”