Part 59 (1/2)
Sir Charles handed him Madeline's letter without a word. Gervase read it carefully, and then handed it back with a little sigh of relief. She had not told his father what she had told him, and for that mercy he was supremely grateful.
For several moments the two men looked at each other in silence. Neither had the courage to blame the other, and yet neither was disposed to take the blame himself. Gervase was convinced that his father played the game badly at the beginning, but he had played it worse at the end. Hence it was bad policy to fling stones while he lived in a gla.s.s-house himself.
A similar train of thought wound its way slowly through Sir Charles's brain. From his point of view Gervase had played the fool again and again, though he saw now that the waiting policy he had advocated was a huge mistake. So while he was inclined to throw the princ.i.p.al share of blame on to Gervase's shoulders, he was bound to take a share himself.
”I suppose we may conclude,” Gervase said, at length, in a lugubrious tone, ”that the game is up.”
”I'm afraid it is,” Sir Charles answered, with suppressed emotion.
”It's a beastly shame, for I've been counting on her fortune for years past.”
”It's an awful miss. Her fortune would have set the Tregonys on their feet.”
”It's no use trying to get her back, I suppose?”
”Do you think you could yet persuade her to marry you?”
Gervase blushed, and walked to the window and looked out into the courtyard.
”Girls are such curious things,” he muttered, evasively. ”You never know when you have them.”
”I can't help thinking you played your cards badly, Gervase. She seemed to idolise you when she came to Trewinion, and looked forward so eagerly to your return.”
”The mistake was in not marrying her right off when we met at Was.h.i.+ngton. She would have said 'yes' like a shot, for she was awfully gone on me. She adored soldiers at that time, and regarded me as a hero.”
Sir Charles heaved a sigh and remained silent for several moments.
”Would you mind letting me see her letter to you?” he questioned, at length.
”Sorry, father, but--but--I've destroyed it,” he blurted out, awkwardly.
This was not the truth, but he wouldn't for the world that his father should read what she said to him.
”Destroyed it? What did you do that for?” Sir Charles asked, suspiciously.
”I was just mad and hardly knew what I was doing. It seemed the only way I could give vent to my anger. I tore it into millions of bits.”
”What reasons did she give for her outrageous conduct?”
”Well, in some respects it was an awfully nice letter she wrote. She said she admired me as a friend immensely. But she didn't love me as she felt she ought to do, which made her unhappy, and so she thought it best to go away without any fuss, and all that, don't you know.”
”And do you believe she still admires you?”
”Why, of course I do. She said so, in fact. I wish I hadn't destroyed her letter. There were some awfully nice sentiments in it, I can a.s.sure you.”
”Then why were you so angry?”
”Why, because I saw I was up a tree. When a girl you want to marry talks about being a sister to you, and all that, don't you know, it makes one angrier than anything.”
”Well, yes, I suppose it does. I'm terribly disappointed, Madeline was a chance in a lifetime.”