Part 32 (1/2)

Elizabeth started.

”No--not exactly. But perhaps--I guessed.”

”He did then!” said Philip, wearily. ”Of course I told him what I thought of his wanting to marry you, in the Rockies; and he behaved awfully decently. He'd never have said a word, I think, without my leave. Well--now I've changed my mind!”

Elizabeth could not help smiling through her tears. With what merry scorn would she have met this a.s.sertion of the _patria potestas_ from the mouth of a sound brother! Her poor Philip!

”Dear old boy!--what have you been saying to Mr. Anderson?”

”Well!”--the boy choked a little--”I've been telling him that--well, never mind!--he knows what I think about him. Perhaps if I'd known him years ago--I'd have been different. That don't matter. But I want to settle things up for you and him. Because you know, Elizabeth, you're pretty gone on him, too!”

Elizabeth hid her face against his knee--without speaking. The boy resumed:

”And so I've been telling him that now I thought differently--I hoped he would ask you to marry him--and I knew that you cared for him--but that he mustn't dream of taking you to Canada. That was all nonsense--couldn't be thought of! He must settle here. You've lots of money--and--well, when I'm gone--you'll have more. Of course Martindale will go away from us, and I know he will look after mother as well as you.”

There was silence--till Elizabeth murmured--”And what did he say?”

The lad drew himself away from her with an angry movement.

”He refused!”

Elizabeth lifted herself, a gleam of something splendid and pa.s.sionate lighting up her small face.

”And what else, dear Philip, did you expect?”

”I expected him to look at it reasonably!” cried the boy. ”How can he ask a woman like you to go and live with him on the prairies? It's ridiculous! He can go into English politics, if he wants politics. Why shouldn't he live on your money? Everybody does it!”

”Did you really understand what you were asking him to do, Philip?”

”Of course I did! Why, what's Canada compared to England? Jolly good thing for him. Why he might be anything here! And as if I wouldn't rather be a dustman in England than a--”

”Philip, my dear boy! do rest--do go to bed,” cried his mother imploringly, coming into the room with her soft hurrying step. ”It's going on for one o'clock. Elizabeth mustn't keep you talking like this!”

She smiled at him with uplifted finger, trying to hide from him all traces of emotion.

But her son looked at her steadily.

”Mother, is Anderson gone?”

”No,” said Mrs. Gaddesden, with hesitation. ”But he doesn't want you to talk any more to-night--he begs you not. Please--Philip!”

”Ask him to come here!” said Philip, peremptorily. ”I want to talk to him and Elizabeth.”

Mrs. Gaddesden protested in vain. The mother and daughter looked at each other with flushed faces, holding a kind of mute dialogue. Then Elizabeth rose from her seat by the fire.

”I will call Mr. Anderson, Philip. But if we convince you that what you ask is quite impossible, will you promise to go quietly to bed and try to sleep? It breaks mother's heart, you know, to see you straining yourself like this.”

Philip nodded--a crimson spot in each cheek, his frail hands twining and untwining as he tried to compose himself.

Elizabeth went half-way down the stairs and called. Anderson hurried out of the drawing-room, and saw her bending to him from the shadows, very white and calm.