Part 19 (1/2)

”My dear boy,” she said, coming a little nearer, ”I don't think the worse of you for that. On the contrary, I admire your pluck and your brave att.i.tude towards life. Indeed I do. I respect you for it. Do you remember the old Italian story of Ser Federigo and his falcon? How he hid his poverty like a knightly gentleman? You see what I mean, don't you? You mustn't be angry with me!”

Her words were Gilead balm of instantaneous healing.

”Angry?”

His voice quavered. In a revulsion of emotion he turned blindly, seized her hand and kissed it. It was all he could do.

”If I have found it out--not just now,” she quickly interjected, seeing him wince, ”but long ago--it was not your fault. You've made a gallant gentleman's show to the end--until I come, in a perfectly brutal way, and try to upset it. Tell me--I'm old enough to be your mother, and you must know by this time that I'm your friend--have you any resources at all--beyond--?” She made ever so slight a motion of her hand toward the hidden p.a.w.n ticket.

”No,” said Paul, with his sure tact and swiftly working imagination. ”I had just come to an end of them. It's a silly story of losses and what-not--I needn't bother you with it. I thought I would walk to London, with the traditional half-crown in my pocket”--he flashed a wistful smile--”and seek my fortune. But I fell ill at your gates.”

”And now that you're restored to health, you propose in the same debonair fas.h.i.+on to--well--to resume the search?”

”Of course,” said Paul, all the fighting and aristocratic instincts returning. ”Why not?”

There were no tears in his eyes now, and they looked with luminous fearlessness at Miss Winwood. He drew a chair to the edge of the bearskin. ”Won't you sit down, Miss Winwood?”

She accepted the seat. He sat down too. Before replying she played with her fan rather roughly--more or less as a man might have played with it. ”What do you think of doing?”

”Journalism,” said Paul. He had indeed thought of it.

”Have you any opening?”

”None,” he laughed. ”But that's the oyster I'm going to open.”

Miss Winwood took a cigarette from a silver box near by. Paul sprang to light it. She inhaled in silence half a dozen puffs. ”I'm going to ask you an outrageous question,” she said, at last. ”In the first place, I'm a severely business woman, and in the next I've got an uncle and a brother with cross-examining instincts, and, though I loathe them--the instincts, I mean--I can't get away from them. We're down on the bedrock of things, you and I. Will you tell me, straight, why you went away to-day to--to”--she hesitated--”to p.a.w.n your watch and chain, instead of waiting till you got to London?”

Paul threw out his arms in a wide gesture. ”Why--your servants--”

She cast the just lighted cigarette into the fire, rose and clapped her hands on his shoulders, her face aflame. ”Forgive me--I knew it--there are doubting Thomases everywhere--and I'm a woman who deals with facts, so that I can use them to the confusion of enemies. Now I have them.

Ser Federigo's watch and chain. Nicht wahr?”

Remember, you who judge this sensible woman of forty-three, that she had fallen in love with Paul in the most unreprehensible way in the world; and if a woman of that age cannot fall in love with a boy sweetly motherwise, what is the good of her? She longed to prove that her polyhedral crystal of a paragon radiated pure light from every one of his innumerable facets. It was a matter of intense joy to turn him round and find each facet pure. There was also much pity in her heart, such as a woman might feel for a wounded bird which she had picked up and nursed in her bosom and healed. Ursula was loath to let her bird fly forth into the bleak winter.

”My brother and I have been talking about you--he is your friend, too,”

she said, resuming her seat. ”How would it suit you to stay with us altogether?”

Paul started bolt upright in his chair. ”What do you mean?” he asked breathlessly, for the heavens had opened with dazzling unexpectedness.

”In some such position as confidential secretary--at a decent salary, of course. We've not been able to find a suitable man since Mr.

Kinghorne left us in the spring. He got into Parliament, you know, for Reddington at the by-election--and we've been muddling along with honorary secretaries and typists. I shouldn't suggest it to you,” she went on, so as to give him time to think, for he sat staring at her, openmouthed, bewildered, his breath coming quickly--”I shouldn't suggest it to you if there were no chances for you in it. You would be in the thick of public affairs, and an ambitious man might find a path in them that would lead him anywhere. I've had the idea in my head,”

she smiled, ”for-some time. But I've only spoken to my brother about it this afternoon--he has been so busy, you see--and I intended to have another talk with him, so as to crystallize things--duties, money, and so forth--before making you any proposal. I was going to write to you with everything cut and dried. But”--she hesitated delicately--”I'm glad I didn't. It's so much more simple and friendly to talk. Now, what do you say?”

Paul rose and gripped his hands together and looked again into the fire. ”What can I say? I could only go on my knees to you--and that--”

”That would be beautifully romantic and entirely absurd,” she laughed.

”Anyhow, it's settled. Tomorrow we can discuss details.” She rose and put out her hand. ”Good night, Paul.”

He bowed low. ”My dearest lady,” said he in a low voice, and went and held the door open for her to pa.s.s out.