Mary would never have known that Don Altana had that night asked for the honor of her hand. Dubb was so fond of her, so thoroughly in earnest in his desire to add to her happiness, that he would have instantly consented to her marriage with whomever she wanted to call husband,—whether it was Walter Morris, Don Altana, or an Ethiopian. But Dubb had not the slightest suspicion that anything could ever make Mary and Walter Morris anything more than friends to each other. On the other hand, he was so fond of Tom that nothing else would have suited him quite so well as to see Mary married to Tom's son; but this was something which he had regarded as entirely out of the question. Eastern people, he knew, generally looked down upon Western people; and he had no doubt that Walter, coming to Red Mountain, as he had, with an Eastern training, considered Mary his inferior. Truly enough, he gave Mary a great deal of his time; but that, Dubb thought, was because Mary was the only woman at Red Mountain who cared anything about the things which interested Walter. Dubb thought this very kind in Walter, and was genuinely grateful to him for showing Mary so much attention. Nothing could have made him believe that Walter meant this for anything beyond courteous attention to his father's pupil. And as for Mary, Dubb did not believe that she had ever given love a thought.
Entering the parlor, he said,—
"Mary, I want ter see ye, jest a minute; Mr. Morris won't mind."
Mary followed him out of the room. They went together into the cosey little den which was now her study and library; though for many years it had been her school-room.
It was the first time within her recollection that Dubb had ever wanted to say anything to her which he had not been perfectly willing to say in the presence of whoever might be around. The unusual proceeding of calling her out filled her with misgivings, for a moment; but she banished them when, stopping in the middle of the little room and facing her, he began stroking her hair,—the caress which he most frequently indulged in.
"What is it, papa? An; you displeased with me for anything?" she asked, smilingly.
"No, child, it ain't that: they's somebody what wants ter marry ye,—when ye gits ready. I guesses ye like 'im, too. It's Don Altanner."
"Don Hernando Altana! He wants to marry me!" she exclaimed.
"Yes; an' I kinder thought it 'ould be good news to yer; it allus seemed ter me as if ye liked him a good deal."
"So I do, papa; so I do; he is a very fascinating man, and I like him immensely; but I had never thought of him in that way, nor of any one else. I had never thought of being a wife at all."
"In course ye hadn't, dearie; in course ye hadn't; I knowed that the hull time. Ye needn't, ef ye don't want to; 'cause nobody ain't goin' ter make yer do nothin' ag'in' yer will."
"It is so new and strange to me, papa; I don't know what I want. You must let me think about it a little. But isn't hen great deal older than I am?"
