Part 33 (1/2)
Mr. Walkingshaw had not given the impression that he was worrying about that or any other feeling, but one was bound to take his word for it.
”I enjoy the sensation far more myself,” he went on. ”It produces a kind of mutual confidence and that sort of thing. I hardly feel inclined to explain the cause of this improvement yet, Frank; but you may take my word that there is nothing in the least discreditable about it. In fact, when one comes to think of it, there's nothing so very extraordinary either. It's a perfectly sound scientific idea, perfectly sound; so you can make your mind at ease too, Frank.”
As a matter of fact, Frank's mind had already wandered far afield from these interesting but slightly obscure speculations.
”Oh, that's all right, I a.s.sure you,” he answered vaguely.
”It's a grand thing to know that Jean's love affair has turned out so happily,” his father continued. ”I can't tell you what a satisfaction it is to me.”
”Yes, isn't it?” Frank murmured from the clouds.
”I only wish I could feel as sure of Andrew falling on his feet.”
Frank's wits were wide awake now.
”Andrew!” he exclaimed. ”Good heavens, do you mean to say you don't think he has fallen on his feet?”
His father shook his head dubiously.
”But, my dear father, I thought you agreed with me--agreed with all of us, I mean--that Ellen's just the--well, the--er--the--er--the nicest girl in the world.”
”Oh, she's all that.”
”Then what on earth do you mean?”
Mr. Walkingshaw leant confidentially over the arm of his easy-chair.
”Between ourselves, Frank, I'm rather doubtful whether she thinks Andrew the nicest man in the world.”
”But--but--surely she--er--I mean, they are engaged.”
”Frank, my boy, not a word of this to a soul--not even to Jean or Lucas.
I may be wrong, and I don't want to make mischief; but I have a strong suspicion there's another fellow.”
”What kind of fellow?”
”A rival.”
”Good G.o.d!” cried Frank. ”Who the devil is he?”
”Hush, hush--not so violently, my dear fellow. It's pretty sickening, of course; but till you know who he is, you can't knock him down.”
”Well, then, tell me who he is.”
”That's just what I'd like to know myself. It's some one in Perths.h.i.+re.”
”How do you know?” demanded Frank.
He controlled his voice, but in his eyes burned a light that boded ill for his brother's rival when he caught him.