"WAS HE JUSTIFIED?"
CHAPTER III.
HARRIET, returned to the bosom of her family after two years of Europe, was no* so very different from the Harriet who went away.
At first sight of the stylish figure of the young traveler Billy Spencer had been overwhelmed and awed, but by the time the twelve miles between the village and the homestead were covered his awe was swallowed up in admiration. Harriet had always been a handsome girl, and her experience abroad had added a certain charm to her hitherto somewhat brusque manner. They were gathered about the fire that evening in the big, low-ceiled room that served as dining-room, parlor and workroom — and which was capable, on occasion, of being transformed into a very presentable hall. It was, by reason of its capacious hearthstone, the favorite rendezvous of the family.
"It is good to be at home again," said Harriet, leaning back in the big leather-covered chair that had cradled in turn every one of the Dalgren babies from Virginia down— and was by long association always the coveted seat in the family circle. "Yes, it is good to be at home. And what a beauty Kitty is growing to be. If you do not get me off your hands, mother dear, before she dawns upon the masculine world, your chances for having one old maid in the family will be pretty fair. It's a shame that Virginia should be twice married before I've had a single offer."
"What! Not one?" cried Kitty, in shocked amazement. She had pictured Harriet as literally walking upon the hearts of willing suitors.
"Well, no," returned Harriet, "not one that would do to count."
"And the ducal coronet?" queried her brother.
"Failed to materialize."
"There was an alternative, was there not?" mused Bob. "Seems to me if I were you I'd take the alternative."
"You advice is excellent, Bob, my boy, but I think I'll wait till I'm asked."
"Billy Spencer is worth the whole British peerage, with a dozen French counts and Italian princes thrown in," commented Bob; "I'm glad you came home—"
"Free, single and disengaged? So am I, when it comes to that. I think I'll leave it to you to select the brother-in-law I am expected to provide you with." Harriet rose and stood leaning upon the back of her brother's chair, her strong young figure, in all its grace and suppleness, silhouetted against the dancing firelight Through the open doorway the solitary lounger upon the veranda looked in from the outer darkness. It may have been the power of his silent wish that drew her to the door, or it may have been her own happy restlessness. But whatever it was, Harriet drifted away from the group at the hearthstone, and, after wandering aimlessly about the wide, shadowy room, paused on the outer threshold.
"Harriet!" came a well-known voice from the darkness.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, half under her breath; "are you out here alone? Come in, won't you?"
"Won't you come out, Harriet? I — I — want to tell you something."
The girl stepped out into the warm, sweet, autumn night.
"What is it?" she said, softly.
She felt a strong hand clasp her own. "Only this, dear; I love you, Harriet. Harriet, will you accept the alternative?"
"Oh!" cried Harriet. "You've been eavesdropping."
"And, contrary to the old saying, have heard nothing I did not wish to hear. But you haven't answered my question yet — Is it yes or no?"
"Well," replied Harriet, thoughtfully, "I suppose it must be yes. The family seem to expect it, and — and, to tell you the truth, I've always half-way expected it myself."
"I know that I have always meant to marry you. But Bob's confidences concerning your designs upon the helpless British peerage have made life a torment since you went away."
