"No," said Mainwaring, with a sudden incomprehensible, but utterly irrepressible, resolution; "but I'M 'a-marchin',' you know, and perhaps I must 'choose my true love now or never.'Will you help me, Miss Macy?"
He drew gently near her.He had become quite white, but also very manly, and it struck her, more deeply, thoroughly, and conscientiously sincere than any man who had before addressed her.
She moved slightly away, as if to rest herself by laying both hands upon the back of the chair.
"Where do you expect to begin your 'sarchin''?" she said, leaning on the chair and tilting it before her; "or are you as vague as usual as to locality?Is it at some 'Mr. Johnson' or 'Mr. Pico,'or--"
"Here," he interrupted boldly.
"I really think you ought to first tell my cousin that you are going away to-morrow," she said, with a faint smile."It's such short notice.She's just in there."She nodded her pretty head,without raising her eyes, towards the hall.
"But it may not be so soon," said Mainwaring.
"Oh, then the 'sarchin'' is not so important?" said Louise, raising her head, and looking towards the hall with some uneasy but indefinable feminine instinct.
She was right; the sitting-room door opened, and Mrs. Bradley made her smiling appearance.
"Mr. Mainwaring was just looking for you," said Louise, for the first time raising her eyes to him."He's not only sent off Mr.
Richardson, but he's going away himself to-morrow."
Mrs. Bradley looked from the one to the other in mute wonder.
Mainwaring cast an imploring glance at Louise, which had the desired effect.Much more seriously, and in a quaint, business-
like way, the young girl took it upon herself to explain to Mrs.
Bradley that Richardson had brought the invalid some important news that would, unfortunately, not only shorten his stay in America,but even compel him to leave The Lookout sooner than he expected,perhaps to-morrow.Mainwaring thanked her with his eyes, and then turned to Mrs. Bradley.
"Whether I go to-morrow or next day," he said with ****** and earnest directness, "I intend, you know, to see you soon again,either here or in my own home in England.I do not know," he added with marked gravity, "that I have succeeded in convincing you that I have made your family already well known to my people, and that"--he fixed his eyes with a meaning look on Louise--"no matter when,or in what way, you come to them, your place is made ready for you.
You may not like them, you know: the governor is getting to be an old man--perhaps too old for young Americans--but THEY will like YOU, and you must put up with that.My mother and sisters know Miss Macy as well as I do, and will make her one of the family."
The conscientious earnestness with which these apparent conventionalities were uttered, and some occult quality of quiet conviction in the young man's manner, brought a pleasant sparkle to the eyes of Mrs. Bradley and Louise.
"But," said Mrs. Bradley, gayly, "our going to England is quite beyond our present wildest dreams; nothing but a windfall, an unexpected rise in timber, or even the tabooed hotel speculation,could make it possible."
"But I shall take the liberty of trying to present it to Mr.
Bradley tonight in some practical way that may convince even his critical judgment," said Mainwaring, still seriously."It will be," he added more lightly, "the famous testimonial of my cure which I promised you."
"And you will find Mr. Bradley so sceptical that you will be obliged to defer your going," said Mrs. Bradley, triumphantly.
"Come, Louise, we must not forget that we have still Mr.
Mainwaring's present comfort to look after; that Minty has basely deserted us, and that we ourselves must see that the last days of our guest beneath our roof are not remembered for their privation."
She led Louise away with a half-mischievous suggestion of maternal propriety, and left Mainwaring once more alone on the veranda.
He had done it!Certainly she must have understood his meaning,and there was nothing left for him to do but to acquaint Bradley with his intentions to-night, and press her for a final answer in the morning.There would be no indelicacy then in asking her for an interview more free from interruption than this public veranda.
Without conceit, he did not doubt what the answer would be.His indecision, his sudden resolution to leave her, had been all based upon the uncertainty of HIS own feelings, the propriety of HIS declaration, the possibility of some previous experience of hers that might compromise HIM.Convinced by her unembarrassed manner of her innocence, or rather satisfied of her indifference to Richardson's gossip, he had been hurried by his feelings into an unexpected avowal.Brought up in the perfect security of his own social position, and familiarly conscious--without vanity--of its importance and power in such a situation, he believed, without undervaluing Louise's charms or independence, that he had no one else than himself to consult.Even the slight uneasiness that still pursued him was more due to his habitual conscientiousness of his own intention than to any fear that she would not fully respond to it.Indeed, with his conservative ideas of proper feminine self-restraint, Louise's calm passivity and undemonstrative attitude were a proof of her superiority; had she blushed overmuch,cried, or thrown herself into his arms, he would have doubted the wisdom of so easy a selection.It was true he had known her scarcely three weeks; if he chose to be content with that, his own accessible record of three centuries should be sufficient for her,and condone any irregularity.
