"It was now or never," she said, by way of explanation; "the house has been full of people during the last three days, and this afternoon some others are coming. So I had to pretend!"
"Pretend?" he questioned.
"I"m afraid they"re getting suspicious," she replied.
"Suspicious of what?"
"That I"m not so great a student, or so devoted to my books, as I seem to be. So I had to pretend I was going to write to the Captain!"
"What Captain?"
She laughed. "Oh! there"s only one Captain, as far as the Tregonys are concerned, and that, of course, is Gervase. Do you know him?"
"I"ve seen him, of course; but I have never spoken to him."
"He"s very handsome, isn"t he?"
"I really don"t know," he answered, bluntly; "it had never occurred to me."
"I suppose men don"t notice such things where men are concerned," she said, reflectively; "but in his uniform he is just superb."
"Then you think fine feathers make fine birds?"
"Well, in some respects, yes," she answered, slowly, "though Gervase looks handsome in ordinary evening dress."
Then silence fell for several seconds. The subject was one in which Rufus was not greatly interested, and as yet not a suspicion of the truth had dawned upon him. "Do you like Gervase?" she said at length, speaking abruptly.
The question took him by surprise, and almost threw him off his guard.
As a matter of fact, he did not like him, and was on the point of saying so, but checked himself in time. "Why do you ask that question?" he stammered, evasively.
"Well, you see," she answered, quite frankly, "they want me to marry him."
"To marry him?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows in astonishment.
"You won"t think it strange my talking to you about the matter, will you?" she said, with perfect simplicity. "You see, apart from the Tregonys, I haven"t a friend in all England except--except you."
"It is kind of you to look upon me as your friend," he said, with heightened colour.
"No, no; it is the other way about," she answered; "all the kindness is on your part."
Then there was another moment of silence. He felt stunned, bewildered, and was almost afraid to speak lest he should betray his feelings.
"I ought to have written days and days ago," she went on, at length.
"You see, he expects to be home by the New Year at latest. Sir Charles hopes that he will be able to eat his Christmas dinner with us.
And--and--Sir Charles, and Gervase also, would like to have the matter settled before he comes home."
"Yes?"
"Oh, well! I hardly know why I have hesitated. I expect it is that I am naturally obstinate. When n.o.body said a word about the matter, and I thought n.o.body cared very much--why--why, I looked upon the matter as good as settled," and she blushed quite frankly and smiled as she did so.
"And have they become anxious all at once?"
"Oh! I don"t know. Sir Charles tells me that it was a wish of my father"s long before he died, and that nothing would please him so much, and all that. And really it looks as if Gervase and I were meant for each other."
"Do you believe in fate or destiny?" he questioned, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"No, but I believe in Providence," she answered, promptly.
"But how can you be sure what Providence means?" he asked. "If Providence speaks how do you know you have interpreted the message aright?"
"Yes, there is something in that," she said, reflectively. "On the other hand, one must be careful not to fly in the face of Providence."
"Admitting your theory of a Providence," he said, slowly, "is not the true Providence our heart and judgment? Must we not in the last resort fall back on what we feel and believe to be right?"
"Yes, go on," she said, eagerly.
"And if one goes against his own heart--his own instincts if you like--if one ignores his own clear judgment, would not that be flying in the face of what you call Providence?"
"But is our own heart to be trusted?" she questioned; "and is not our judgment often blind?"
"Should we be wiser in trusting to somebody else"s heart and judgment?"
"We might be. You see, I am only a girl. I have had no experience. I know very little of the world or its ways. On the other hand, here is Sir Charles. He is getting old. He knows a good deal more than there is in the copy-books. Then there was my father; he did not talk to me about the matter, but from what I know now he talked freely to Sir Charles.
Then there is Gervase, he"s over thirty, and has seen a good deal of the world, and he"s quite sure. And then there is myself, and I think Gervase is one in a thousand. So, you see, all the streams appear to be flowing in the same direction, and that looks a clear indication of Providence. Now, doesn"t it?"
"If you are convinced I should say nothing else matters," he answered, with averted eyes.
"Well, there"s only one thing that worries me," she said, thoughtfully; "and that"s only worried me lately."
"Yes?"
"I used to think nothing else mattered so long as one could enjoy himself or herself. That to have a good time was the chief end of life.
Gervase is retiring from the Army, and intends to do nothing for the rest of his days."
"Well?"
"It seems to me a much n.o.bler thing to do something. You told me once that I should inspire somebody to great deeds. But that would be rather hard on Gervase after he has roughed it for so many years."
"If you inspire him, it will not be hardship," he answered.
"I am not sure that I could," she said, turning her head, and looking out of the window. "He is very brave and fearless, and all that. But the great things that work for human good--well, you see, he is not an inventor like you."
"Do not mock me," he said, almost fiercely. "My poor scheme may never see the light."
"Oh, yes it will. You are bound to succeed. You are not the kind of man to give up in despair."
"Give up what in despair?"