Part 38 (1/2)

”Will you allow me to pa.s.s, please?”

Mr. Wilton's voice was so firm that his sister made no further comment, but with a shrug of her shoulders turned aside.

”If only Elizabeth were a different woman, I might not have scenes like this,” murmured the poor man.

He went to his study, and there, to his great astonishment, found Marjorie and Basil both waiting for him.

”We saw you coming up the field” said Marjorie at once. ”And I knew Ermie had told. I knew it by her face, and the way she walked. I told Basil so, and I said we would come in here, for I guessed you'd bring Ermie here. Dear Ermie, you are brave now! Dear Ermie!”

Marjorie ran up to her sister.

”It's all going to be quite right now,” she said. And she raised her flushed eager face, and looked at her father.

Mr. Wilton went straight to Basil's side.

”I misunderstood you, my boy; forgive me,” he said.

Ermengarde stood erect and stiff. She had not shed a tear, nor made any response to Marjorie's words. Her whole soul was in her face, however. She was watching her father's greeting of Basil. She waited for its effect.

The few words uttered by Mr. Wilton were magical. Something seemed to flash out of Basil's eyes. They looked straight up into his father's, then dropped to the ground.

”Father,” he murmured. His father grasped his hand.

”O Basil,” suddenly sobbed Ermie. Her fort.i.tude gave way; she rushed to her brother and almost groveled at his feet.

”Now, what's to be done?” said Mr. Wilton, turning in a perplexed kind of way to his younger daughter. ”I confess it, I never felt more confused and put out in all my life. I brought Ermengarde here to punish her most severely.”

”Oh, please, father, don't! Let it be a full, complete, jolly kind of forgiveness all round. Look at Basil, father.”

Mr. Wilton turned his head. Basil was on his knees, and his arms were round Ermie, her head rested on his shoulder.

”Oh, father, do let us come out and leave them together for a little!”

”Really, Maggie, you don't treat me with a bit of respect,” said Mr.

Wilton. But his voice was low, the frown had cleared from his brow, and he pinched Marjorie's firm round cheek.

”I suppose I must humor you, little woman,” he said, ”for after all you are the only member of my family who never gets into sc.r.a.pes.”

”Oh, father, I'm so happy!” They were out side the study door now, and Marjorie, still clinging to her father's hand, was skipping up and down. ”Everything will be as right as possible now, and no one, no one in all the world can help Ermie as Basil can.”

”I believe you are right there, Maggie,” said Mr. Wilton. ”My poor lad, he certainly has done a n.o.ble, Quixotic sort of thing. I can't forgive myself for being so harsh with him.”

”Oh, father, Basil quite understood. He didn't wish to be cleared, you know.”

”Yes, yes, I see daylight at last.”

”Father, what do you mean by Basil being Quixotic?”

”I'll tell you another time, puss. And so _you_ knew of this all the time?”