right and left with both hands! But you’ve
loved her all the time, God bless you; and now the
moment she’s in trouble you’re ready to
take both her and the Colonel—whom, by the
way, you must very cordially detest—and
share your pitiful, pilfered little crusts with ’em
and—having two more mouths to feed—probably
pilfer a little more outrageously in the future!
You’re a sanctimonious old hypocrite, you are,
and a pious fraud, and a delusion, and a snare, and
you and Adele have nefarious designs on me at this
very moment, but I think I’d like to kiss you!”
Indeed, I believe Mr. Woods came very near doing so.
She loved Peggy, you see; and he loved every one who
loved her.
But he compromised by shaking hands energetically,
for a matter of five minutes, and entreating to be
allowed to subscribe to some of her deserving charitable
enterprises—any one she might mention—and
so left the old lady a little bewildered, but very
much pleased.
She decided that for the future Adele must not see
so much of Mr. Van Orden. She began to fear that
gentleman’s views of life were not sufficiently
serious.
Billy went into the gardens in pursuit of Margaret.
He was almost happy now and felt vaguely ashamed of
himself. Then he came upon Kathleen Saumarez,
who, indeed, was waiting for him there; and his heart
went down into his boots.
He realised on a sudden that he was one of the richest
men in America. It was a staggering thought.
Also, Mr. Woods’s views, at this moment, as
to the advantages of wealth, might have been interesting.
Kathleen stood silent for an instant, eyes downcast,
face flushed. She was trembling.
Then, “Billy,” she asked, almost inaudibly,
“do—do you still want—your
answer?”
The birds sang about them. Spring triumphed in
the gardens. She looked very womanly and very
pretty.
To all appearances, it might easily have been a lover
and his lass met in the springtide, shamefaced after
last night’s kissing. But Billy, somehow,
lacked much of the elation and the perfect content
and the disposition to burst into melody that is currently
supposed to seize upon rustic swains at such moments.
He merely wanted to know if at any time in the remote
future his heart would be likely to resume the discharge
of its proper functions. It was standing still
now.
However, “Can you ask—dear?”
His words, at least, lied gallantly.
The poor woman looked up into Billy’s face.
After years of battling with the world, here for the
asking was peace and luxury and wealth incalculable,
and—as Kathleen thought—a love
that had endured since they were boy and girl together.
Yet she shrunk from him a little and clinched her
hands before she spoke.
“Yes,” Kathleen faltered, and afterward
she shuddered.
And here, if for the moment I may prefigure the Eagle
as a sentient being, I can imagine his chuckle.
