Part 30 (2/2)
”Yes, the room is warm,” said the host, who had hardly spoken all through the dinner, being deep in thought upon one of his last discoveries.
Harry gave his sister a contemptuous look, which she returned with one half sorrowful, half pitying, from which he turned to glance at Madelaine, who was standing by her friend.
Aunt Marguerite smiled, for there was certainly the germ of an incurable rupture between these two, and she turned away her head to hide her triumph.
”She will never forgive him for speaking as he did about the beggarly trade.” Then crossing with a graceful old-world carriage, she laid her hand on Madelaine's arm.
”Come into the drawing-room, my clear,” she said, smiling, and to Madelaine it seemed that her bright, malicious-looking eyes were full of triumph. ”You and I will have a good hard fight over genealogies, till you confess that I am right, and that your father and you have no claim to Huguenot descent.”
”Oh no, Miss Vine,” said the girl, laughing, ”my father must fight his own battle. As for me, I give up. Perhaps you are right, and I am only a Dutch girl after all.”
”Oh, I wish we were back in London!” cried Harry as they strolled along towards the cliff walk.
”Ah, this is a dead-and-alive place, and no mistake,” said Pradelle.
”Why don't you leave it, then?” said Harry sulkily. ”You are free.”
”_No_, I am not. I don't like to see a friend going to the bad; and besides, I have your aunt's commission to try and save you from sinking down into a miserable tradesman.”
”Why don't you save me, then?”
”That's just like you. Look here, sink all cowardice, and go up to the old boy like a Trojan. Plenty of money, hasn't he?”
”I suppose so. I don't know.”
”He's sure to have.”
”But he's such an old porcupine.”
”Never mind. Suppose you do get a few p.r.i.c.ks, what of that? Think of the future.”
”But that venture must be all over now.”
”What of that? You get the money and I can find a dozen ways of investing it. Look here, Harry, you profess to be my friend, and to have confidence in my judgment, and yet you won't trust me.”
”I trusted you over several things, and see how I lost.”
”Come, that's unkind. A man can't always win. There, never look back, look forward. Show some fight, and make one good plunge to get out of that miserable shop-boy sort of life.”
”Come along, then.”
”You'll go up and ask him?”
”Yes, if you'll back me up.”
”Back you up, lad? I should think I will. Lead on, I'll follow thee.”
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