Part 11 (1/2)
She remembered disliking Mrs. Ellsworth's writing the first time she saw it, foreseeing the selfishness which afterward enslaved her. Since then she had had little time to practise, until the day when she heard from ”Mr. N. Smith” after her answer to his advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Morning Post_.
One reason for feeling sure she could never care for the man was because his handwriting prejudiced her in advance, it was so stiff, so devoid of character. How different, she reflected now, from the writing of the man who had taken his place!
She made such haste in dressing that her fingers seemed to be ”all thumbs”; and when at length she was ready she gazed gloomily into the mirror. Last night she had not been so bad in evening dress; but now in the cheap, ready-made brown velveteen coat and skirt and plain toque to match, which had been her ”best” for two winters, she feared lest _he_ should find her commonplace.
”The first thing I do, when he's had time to look me over, must be to tell him he's free if he wants his freedom,” she decided. And she kept her word, when in the half-deserted foyer she had shaken hands with a young man who wore a white rose in his b.u.t.tonhole. ”Please tell me frankly if you don't like me as well by daylight,” she gasped.
”I like you better,” he said. ”You're still my white rose. See, I've adopted it as your symbol. I shall never wear any other flower on my coat. This is yours. No, it's _you_! And I've kept the one I took last night. I mean to keep it always. No danger of _my_ changing my mind! But you? I've lain awake worrying for fear you might.”
He held her hand, questioning her eyes with his.
She shook her head, smiling. But he would not let the hand go. At that hour there was no one to stare. ”The Countess didn't warn you off me?”
Annesley opened her eyes. ”Of course not! Why, you told me you were old friends!”
”So we are--as friends go in this world: 'pals,' anyhow. She's done me several good turns, and I've paid her. She'd always do what she could to help, for her own sake as well as mine. But her idea of a man may be different from yours.”
”She wasn't with me long,” explained Annesley. ”She said I needed sleep.
After she'd looked at my room to see if it were comfortable, she bade me 'good-night,' and we haven't met this morning. The few remarks she did make about you were complimentary.”
”What did she say? I'm curious.”
”Well, if you must know, she said that you were a man few women could resist; and--she didn't blame _me_.”
”H'm! You call that complimentary? Let's suppose she meant it so. Now we'll have breakfast, and forget her--unless you'd like her called to go with us on a shopping expedition I've set my heart on.”
”What kind of a shopping expedition?” Annesley wanted to know.
”To buy you all the pretty things you've ever wished for.”
The girl laughed. ”To do that would cost a fortune!”
”Then we'll spend a fortune. Shall you and I do it ourselves, or would you like to have the Countess de Santiago's taste?”
”Oh, let us go without her,” Annesley exclaimed, ”unless you----”
”Rather _not_. I want you to myself. You darling! We'll have a great day--spending that fortune. The next thing we do--it can wait till after we're married--is to look for a house in a good neighbourhood, to rent furnished. But we'll get your swell cousins, Lord and Lady Annesley-Seton, to help us choose. Perhaps there'll be something near them.”
”Why, they hardly know I exist! I doubt if Lady Annesley-Seton _does_ know,” replied the girl. ”They'll do nothing to help us, I'm sure.”
”Then _don't_ be sure, because if you made a bet you'd lose. Take my word, they'll be pleased to remember a cousin who is marrying a millionaire.”
”Good gracious!” gasped Annesley. ”_Are_ you a millionaire?”
Her lover laughed. ”Well, I don't want to boast to you, though I may to your cousins, but if I'm not one of your conventional, stodgy millionaires, I have a sort of Fortunatus purse which is never empty.
I can always pull out whatever I want. We'll let your people understand without any bragging.
”I think Lady Annesley-Seton, _nee_ Miss Haverstall, whose father's purse has flattened out like a pancake, will jump for joy when she hears what you want her to do. But come along, let's have breakfast!”
Overwhelmed, Annesley walked beside him in silence to the almost deserted restaurant where the latest breakfasters had finished and the earliest lunchers had not begun.