Part 36 (1/2)

Vaguely she felt choky over the last words. It did seem so hard to be left all alone in the wide world to face these dark problems.

”It--it is not a usual subject for discussion, even between parent and child, Aura,” he replied; ”but if you ask me--yes. I am extremely anxious for you to marry.”

”Why?” The question came swiftly.

Mr. Sylva.n.u.s Smith put down his pen finally, and turned his feet to the fire. He thought for a moment of quite a variety of reasons.

Because it was the natural end of woman; ... but for years past he had laboured in vain to convince the world that marriage was slavery.

Because he wished her to be happy?... but so many marriages were unhappy. Because he would have liked to see grandchildren about him?... but in his innermost heart he knew that a few months of life was all for which he had any right to look.

He decided finally on the real reason.

”Because--because when I die, my child, and that cannot be far off----”

”Grandfather, don't!”

Her voice became poignant with fond reproof.

He heaved a sigh, and honestly felt himself heroic.

”My dear,” he said grandly, ”there is no use in deceiving ourselves--I may live--but on the other hand,” he waved his pretty white hand gracefully. The conversation was beginning to interest him, and though he had acquiesced in Ted Cruttenden's desire to let the question stand over for the present, he felt there could be no harm in diagnosing Aura's att.i.tude. ”The fact is, my dear, that when I die you will be very badly off, in fact, it is a source of the very greatest anxiety to me, Aura, you will have nothing--I mean no money--and unless you are married--happily married--I do not see how you can earn your own livelihood.”

”Then I should earn it by being married!” she asked.

”Well! hardly so; but--it would be a great weight off my mind, Aura.

So--if you have the chance----”

She stood still for a moment or two, then once more seating herself on the floor, this time at his feet, she turned her face to the fire. ”I have the chance,” she said at last in a clear voice, ”Lord Blackborough asked me to marry him to-day. I refused--but----” Her face was still hidden, but a curious expectancy came to her whole att.i.tude. She seemed on the alert.

Sylva.n.u.s Smith who had sat up prepared to curse, sank back in his chair to bless with a sigh of relief. ”You refused him! Thank G.o.d! My dear child, you--you caused me the most painful alarm; though I might have trusted your good sense to see that it would have been--a--a most unsuitable marriage.”

The alertness had gone. ”Would it?” she said indifferently, ”Yes! I suppose it would.” She said no more, though all unconsciously the iron was entering her heart, the young glad animal heart which clamoured for pleasure. Still, what her grandfather had called her good sense had shown her this unsuitability at once, though his grounds for his opinion were most likely very different from hers. At the same time it was her decision. She had made it of her own free will. There was no coercion about it. She had made it, and it was as well that others endorsed her action.

So she essayed a smile and turned towards him. ”Then I don't think I have any other chance of getting married just at present, grandfather,” she said lightly, ”but if anybody 'comes along----'” She paused, joking on the subject being a trifle beyond her.

The old man sat looking at her with real affection overlaid by the quaint sense of magnanimity which pursued him in every relation of life, the result no doubt of his unquestioning acceptance of himself as philanthropic benefactor to the race. Should he or should he not tell her what he had just heard from Ted?

Something in the slackness of her att.i.tude as she sat crouched by the fire, something of weariness in the young face which, as a rule, was so buoyant with the _joie de vivre_, made him decide on telling her.

There could be no harm in finding out how she was prepared to receive the suggestion. He drew his chair closer.

”But there you are mistaken surely. Has it never occurred to you that--that perhaps--Mr. Cruttenden----”

”Ted!” echoed Aura. ”No! Grandfather, it is you who are mistaken. Ted and I have always been the best of friends--the very best of friends!

but he has never--Oh! I can a.s.sure you he has never been the least-- never the least like Ned--I mean Lord Blackborough.”

”Perhaps that stands to his credit,” remarked the old man chillily.

”Love is not shown--by--by love-making. But I am sure of what I say, my dear, because--Ted as you call him--though in my young days--but we will let that pa.s.s for the present--told me himself that the dearest wish of his heart----”