Part 39 (1/2)

”You find this prettier than any picture in any gallery, don't you?”

”Oh, it has great charm for me. I can hardly express the curious content it gives me, to wander about such an old garden. The fragrance of the box is particularly pleasant to me, and I love the old-fas.h.i.+oned flowers better than any of the wonders the modern gardeners show. Just look at that ma.s.s of larkspur--did you ever see such a satisfying blue?”

”I have. The first time I came to your house to dinner you wore blue, the softest, richest blue imaginable, and you sat where the shaded light made a picture of you I shall never forget. I've never seen that peculiar blue since without thinking of you. It's one of the shades of that larkspur, isn't it?”

”I made fun of you, afterward, for telling Rosy you noticed the colours we wore,” confessed Roberta, with a mischievous glance.

”You did--you rascal! Look up at me a minute--please. The blue of your eyes, with those black lashes, is another larkspur shade, in this light.

I've called it sea-blue. Rob--dearest--the nights I've dreamed about those eyes of yours!”

He got no further chance to observe them just then, as he might have expected, for Roberta immediately turned their light on the garden and away from his wors.h.i.+pful regard. She engaged the old gardener in conversation, and made his dull gaze brighten with her praise. Meanwhile Richard went off to the house, and presently returning, drew his party into a group and put a question, striving to maintain an appearance of indifference.

”It occurred to me you might care to look into the house itself. It's rather interesting inside, I believe. There seems to be a caretaker there, and she says we may come in. She'll meet us at the front. Shall we take a minute to do it?”

”I should like it very much,” agreed Roberta promptly. ”I've heard mother speak of the fine old hall with its staircase--a different type from ours, and very interesting.”

”There certainly is a remarkable attraction to me in this place,” said Matthew Kendrick, walking beside Roberta with hands clasped behind his back and head well up. ”It has a homelike look, in spite of its deserted state, which appeals to me. I wonder that the remnant of the family does not care to retain it.”

”I hear the remnant is all but gone,” his grandson informed him, with sober lips but dancing eyes. He was delighted with his grandfather for his a.s.sistance in playing the part of the casual observer. He led the way up the steps of the white-pillared portico, and wheeled to see the others ascending. He watched Roberta as she preceded him over the threshold of the opened door.

”Shall I see you coming in that door, you beautiful thing, years and years from now?” he asked her in his heart, and smiled happily to himself.

And now, indeed, old Matthew Kendrick played his part n.o.bly and with skill. When the party had admired the distinction of the hall, and the stately sweep of its staircase, he led Ruth into a room on the left at the same moment that Richard summoned Roberta to look at something he had described in the room on the right. A question drew the caretaker after Mr. Kendrick, senior, and the younger man had the moment he was playing for.

”This fireplace, Robin--isn't it the very counter-part of the one in your own living-room?” He asked it with his hand on the chimney-piece, and his glowing eyes studying hers.

Roberta looked, and nodded delightedly. ”It certainly is, only still wider and higher. What a splendid one! And what a room! Oh, how could they leave it? Imagine it furnished, and lived in.”

”Imagine it! And a great fire on this hearth. It would take in an immense log, wouldn't it?”

”Poor hearth!” She turned again to it, and her glance sobered. ”So cold now, even on a July day, after having been warmed with so many fires.”

”Shall we warm it?” He took an eager step toward her. ”Shall we build our own home fires upon it?”

Startled, she stared at him, the blue of her eyes growing deep. He smiled into them, his own gleaming with satisfaction.

”Richard! What do you--mean?”

”What I say, darling. Could you be happy here? Should you like it better than the Kendrick house?--gloomy old place that that is!”

”But--your grandfather! We--we couldn't possibly leave him lonely!”

”Bless your kind heart, dear--we couldn't. Shall we make a home for him here?”

”Would he be content?”

”So content that he's only waiting to know that you like it, and he'll tell you so. The plan is this, Robin--if you approve it. Three months of the year grandfather will stay in the old home, the hard, winter months, and if you are willing, we'll stay with him. The rest of the year--here, in our own home. Eh? Do you like it?”

She stood a moment, staring into the empty fireplace, her eyes s.h.i.+ning with a sudden hint of most unwonted tears. Then she turned to him.