Nor had her fancy been even lightly captured until Mortimer Dwight, that
perfect hero of maiden dreams, had swept her off her dancing feet on the
most memorable night of her life.
She had quite made up her mind to marry him. The indignant silent hostility
of the family (even Mrs. Ballinger, her moment of weakness passed, having
been swung to the horrified Maria's point of view) had been all that was
necessary to convince the young Alexina that fate had sent her the complete
romance. She hoped the opposition would drive her to an elopement; little
dreaming of the horror with which Mr. Dwight would greet the heterodox
alternative.
Mrs. Abbott had had a valid excuse for not asking him down: provisions
were scarce, and, so Tom said, he was doing useful work in town. But Olive
Bascom, whose country home was in San Mateo, had invited him for the next
week end, and he had accepted. Alexina was to be one of the small house
party, and there were many romantic walks behind San Mateo. A moon was also
due.
III
Still Gathbroke might have entered the race with an even chance, for
maidens of eighteen are merely the blind tools of Nature, had not the
family made the mistake of displaying too warm an approval of the eligible
young Englishman. Mrs. Groome, Mrs. Abbott, Aunt Clara, reenforced even by
the more worldly Mrs. Hunter, who, however, had no children of her own,
treated him throughout the luncheon with an almost intimate cordiality and
a lively personal interest; whereas, if Mrs.
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