Part 46 (1/2)

”Sort of a--nonent.i.ty, perhaps.” Mr. Smith's lips snapped tight shut.

Miss Maggie laughed softly.

”Perhaps--though I suppose he couldn't really be that--not very well--with twenty millions, could he? But I mean, he wasn't very bad, nor very good. He didn't seem to be dissipated, or mixed up in any scandal, or to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On the other hand, I couldn't find that he'd done any particular good in the world. Some charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory, apparently, and I don't believe, from the accounts, that he ever really INTERESTED himself in any one--that he ever really cared for--any one.”

”Oh, you don't!” If Miss Maggie had looked up, she would have met a most disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But Miss Maggie did not look up.

”No,” she proceeded calmly. ”Why, he didn't even have a wife and children to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, of course, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I can imagine his tossing them aside with a languid 'Fix them up, James,--give the creatures what they want, only don't bother me.'”

”He NEVER did!” stormed Mr. Smith; then, hastily: ”I'm sure he never did. You wrong him. I'm sure you wrong him.”

”Maybe I do,” sighed Miss Maggie. ”But when I think of what he might do--Twenty millions! I can't grasp it. Can you? But he didn't do--anything--worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he was living, so that's why I can't imagine what his will may be. Probably the same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law firm instead of 'James' as disburser--unless, of course, Hattie's expectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdells here.”

”You think--there's something worth while he MIGHT have done with those millions, then?” pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar wistfulness in his eyes.

”Something he MIGHT have done with them!” exclaimed Miss Maggie. ”Why, it seems to me there's no end to what he might have done--with twenty millions.”

”What would YOU do?”

”I?--do with twenty millions?” she breathed.

”Yes, you.” Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion. ”Miss Maggie, if a man with twenty millions--that is, could you love a man with twenty millions, if--if Mr. Fulton should ask you--if _I_ were Mr.

Fulton--if--” His countenance changed suddenly. He drew himself up with a cry of dismay. ”Oh, no--no--I've spoiled it all now. That isn't what I meant to say first. I was going to find out--I mean, I was going to tell--Oh, good Heavens, what a--That confounded money--again!”

Miss Maggie sprang to her feet.

”Why, Mr. Smith, w-what--” Only the crisp shutting of the door answered her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.

Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own image in the mirror.

”Well, now you've done it, Maggie Duff,” she whispered wrathfully to the reflection in the gla.s.s. ”And you've broken his heart! He was--was going to say something--I know he was. And you? You've talked money, money, MONEY to him for an hour. You said you LOVED money; and you told what you'd do--if you had twenty millions of dollars. And you know--you KNOW he's as poor as Job's turkey, and that just now he's more than ever plagued over--money! And yet you--Twenty millions of dollars! As if that counted against--”

With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands and sat down, helplessly, angrily.

CHAPTER XXIII

REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE

Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.

Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance, caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a furtive, angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to rearranging the vases and photographs on the mantel.

”Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?” she greeted him, with studied unconcern.

Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.

”Miss Maggie, I've got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I had--made a botch of things at the very start, it didn't help any to--to run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only because I--I--But never mind that. I'm coming now straight to the point. Miss Maggie, will you--marry me?”