A Gamble with Life Part 34

"But she knows who I am and who you are, and, surely, it's something to ask a nameless girl to marry into a family like ours."

"I confess I expected she would be more impressed than she is."

"Does she know she's got the tin?"

"I don't think so. She thinks we have the wealth and the position, and everything else."

"And yet she doesn't jump. I'd no idea she'd hold out as she is doing."

"You'll have to humour her, Gervase. I've told you from the first she's not to be driven. Sympathise with her in what you call her heroics.

Encourage her in her mental flight after great ideals."

Gervase shook his head, and looked blank. "It's no use, father," he said, despondingly, "I should only make a fool of myself if I tried.

Nature never gave me any wings of that sort."

"At any rate, don't contradict her, and call her a goose, and a.s.sume the airs of a superior person."

"But surely I know a mighty lot more than she does. Think of my age and experience, and remember I haven't travelled over half the world with my eyes shut."

"It is not experience of the world, but knowledge of the ways of women you want. It isn't strength, but diplomacy that you need."

"You think she will come round in time, don't you?"

"Oh, yes! I think so, provided you play your cards with skill. She has never said 'no' has she?"

"That isn't the trouble exactly. She has never said 'yes,' and until she says it I'm not safe. You know she comes of age in May."

"Well?"

"You take it very coolly, father," Gervase said, in a tone of irritation. "I don't think it is at all well. Madeline is my only hope.

Unless I marry a rich woman I'm stranded--absolutely stranded."

"You've not been getting into deeper debt, I hope?"

"I've not been getting into shallower water, you may bet your bottom dollar on that."

"Am I to understand that you have been antic.i.p.ating events?"

"I have a little. I thought I was perfectly safe in doing so. Your letters indicated that the way was quite clear, that Madeline looked upon the thing as settled, that she knew it was her father's wish, that you were quite agreeable, that everything was as straight as straight could be."

"But I never saw her letters to you."

"They were almost entirely satisfactory, I can a.s.sure you. She did not accept my proposal, it is true. But--well--she couldn't have written in a more friendly way. She thought we should meet again first, that was all. No hint of any delay after I came back."

"I hope you haven't been disappointing her in some way."

"I believe she is a bit disappointed at my retiring from the army. Like most girls, she dotes on a soldier. She loves the uniform and the gold braid and all that. But I told her I gave up the army that I might devote myself to her."

"And did that satisfy her?"

"I don't know. I can't make out exactly where she is. She seems to have changed in some way. If she hadn't lived under your eye ever since she has been in England I should be half disposed to think some other fellow had been making love to her."

Sir Charles gave a little start, then turned his head, and contemplated his writing pad.

"I suppose she didn't flirt with anybody while you were in London?"

Gervase questioned, after a pause.

"Not that I am aware of. Oh, no! I'm certain she didn't," Sir Charles replied, looking up again.

"And, of course, in St. Gaved there's n.o.body she would look at for a moment," Gervase went on.

Sir Charles nibbled for a moment at the end of his penholder. He hardly knew whether to tell Gervase or no. It was but a vague fear at most. For months--so he believed--she had never seen Rufus Sterne, and his name was never mentioned under any circ.u.mstances. Gervase was a violent fellow, and if he were made jealous there was no knowing what he might do or say. On the other hand, it was almost certain that he would hear the story of Madeline's adventure on the cliffs sooner or later, and then he would be excessively angry at not having been told by his own people.

On the whole, Sir Charles concluded that he had better let Gervase know all there was to be known. The simple truth might gain in importance in his eyes the longer it was kept from him.

"I don't think, Gervase, you need have the least fear that you have a rival," he said, at length, looking up with what he intended to be a rea.s.suring smile. "There was a little circ.u.mstance some months ago that caused me a moment's uneasiness; but only a moment's. I soon saw that it meant nothing, that it never could mean anything, in fact."

"What was the circ.u.mstance?" Gervase asked, with a quick light of interest in his eyes.

"Well, it came about in this way," and Sir Charles told in an off-hand and apparently indifferent manner the story of Madeline's escapade.

Gervase listened in gloomy silence, tugging vigorously at his moustache all the time.

"And you say she visited him in his diggings?" he questioned, sullenly, when Sir Charles had finished.

"I understand she called twice. From her point of view it seemed right enough. He had broken his leg in rescuing her, and with her American notions of freedom and independence, she saw no harm in calling to see him when he was getting better."

"But you say she went twice?"

"She went a second time to take him some books she had promised to lend him."

"Are you sure she went only twice?"

"I think I may say yes to that question. Madeline is very truthful and very frank, and when I pointed out that it was scarcely in harmony with our English notions of propriety she fell in with the suggestion at once."

"And she made no attempt to see him after?"

"Not the smallest. She had expressed her grat.i.tude and the episode had closed."

Gervase looked thoughtful, and not quite satisfied.

"Madeline can be as close as an oyster when she likes," he said, after a pause; "how do you know she has not been thinking about the fellow ever since?"

"Why should she?"

"Well, why shouldn't she? He saved her life, that is no small matter, especially to a romantic temperament like hers. He broke his leg, and nearly lost his life in doing it; that would add greatly to the interest of the situation. Then, if I remember rightly, he's a singularly handsome rascal, with an easy flow of speech, and a voice peculiarly rich and flexible."

"My dear boy, you can make a mountain out of a molehill, if you like,"

Sir Charles said, with a laugh. "That's your look-out. I thought it right to tell you everything--this incident among the rest; but I can a.s.sure you you need not worry yourself five seconds over the matter."