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Page 60
The voyagers were gathered about the stern-rail and a handkerchief or
two fluttered in the wind. For an hour they tarried there, keeping in
view the green-wooded hills and the white cottages nestling at their
base. And turn by turn there were glimpses of the noble old house at
the top of the hill. And some looked upon it for the last time.
"I've had a jolly time up there," said Fitzgerald. The gulls swooped,
as they crossed and recrossed the milky wake. "Better time than I
deserved."
"Are you still worried about that adventure?" Laura demanded. "Dismiss
it from your mind and let it be as if we had known each other for many
years."
"Do you really mean that?"
"To be sure I do," promptly. "I have stepped to the time of convention
so much that a lapse once in a while is a positive luxury. But Mrs.
Coldfield had given me a guaranty before I addressed you, so the
adventure was only a make-believe one after all."
There never was a girl quite like this one. He purloined a sidelong
glance at her which embraced her wholly, from the chic gray cap on the
top of her shapely head to the sensible little boots on her feet. She
wore a heavy, plaid coat, with deep pockets into which her hands were
snugly buried; and she stood braced against the swell and the wind
which was turning out strong and cold. The rich pigment in the blood
mantled her cheeks and in her eyes there was still a bit of captive
sunshine. He knew now that what had been only a possibility was an
assured fact. Never before had he cursed his father's friends, but he
did so now, silently and earnestly; for their pilfering fingers and
their plausible lies had robbed his father's son of a fine inheritance.
Money. Never had he desired it so keenly. A few weeks ago it had
meant the wherewithal to pay his club-dues and to support a decent
table when he traveled. Now it was everything; for without it he never
could dare lift his eyes seriously to this lovely picture so close to
him, let alone dream of winning her. He recalled Cathewe's light
warning about the bones of ducal hopes. What earthly chance had he?
Unconsciously he shrugged.
"You are shrugging!" she cried, noting the expression; for, if he was
secretly observing her, she was surreptitiously contemplating his own
advantages.
"Did I shrug?"
"You certainly did."
"Well," candidly, "it was the thought of money that made me do it."
"I detest it, too."
"Good heavens, I didn't say I detested it! What I shrugged about was
my own dreary lack of it."
"Bachelors do not require much."
"That's true; but I no longer desire to remain a bachelor." The very
thing that saved him was the added laughter, forced, miserably forced.
Fool! The words had slipped without his thinking.
"Gracious! That sounds horribly like a proposal." She beamed upon him
merrily.
And his heart sank, for he had been earnest enough, for all his
blunder. Manlike, he did not grasp the fact that under the
circumstance merriment was all she could offer him, if she would save
him from his own stupidity.
"But I do hate money," she reaffirmed.
"I shouldn't. Think of what it brings."
"I do; begging letters, impostures, battle-scarred titles, humbugging
shop-keepers, and perhaps one honest friend in a thousand. And if I
married a title, what equivalent would I get for my money, to put it
brutally? A chateau, which I should have to patch up, and tolerance
from my husband's noble friends. Not an engaging prospect."
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