Part 21 (1/2)
”Because,” pursued the Governor, ”it seems to me that going on as you're doing means either that you want to marry her, or that you're making a fool of her.”
This pointed statement of the case awoke d.i.c.k's dormant conscience.
”And a cad of myself, you mean?” he asked.
”Same thing, isn't it?” replied his brother curtly.
”I suppose so,” d.i.c.k admitted ruefully. ”Hang it, I am a fool!”
”I don't imagine you want to do anything a gentleman wouldn't do. Only, if you do, you won't do it from my house--that's all.”
”All right, old chap. Don't be so precious down on me. I didn't mean any harm. A fellow gets led on, you know--no, I don't mean by her--by circ.u.mstances, you know.”
”I grant you she's pretty and pleasant, but she won't have a _sou_, and--well, Medland's a very clever fellow and very distinguished.
But----”
”No, I know. They're not our sort.”
”Then of course it's no use blinking the fact that there's something wrong. I don't know what, but something.”
”Did Kilshaw tell you that?”
”Yes, between ourselves, he did. He wouldn't tell me what, but said he knew what he was talking about, and that I'd better tell you that you and all of us would be very sorry before long if we had anything to do with the Medlands.”
”What the deuce does he mean?” asked d.i.c.k fretfully.
”Well, you know the sort of gossip that's about. Compare that with what Kilshaw said.”
”What gossip?”
”Nonsense! You know well enough. It's impossible to live here without noticing that everybody thinks there's something wrong. I believe Kilshaw knows what it is, and, what's more, that he means to have it out some day. However that may be, rumours of the sort there are about are by themselves enough to stop any wise man.”
”Old wives' scandal, I expect.”
”Perhaps: perhaps not. Anyhow, I'd rather have no scandal, old wives' or any other, about my wife's family.”
”I'm awfully fond of her,” said d.i.c.k.
”Well, as I said, it's your look-out. I don't know what Mary'll say, and--you've only got six hundred a year of your own, d.i.c.k.”
”It seems to me we're in the deuce of a hurry--” began d.i.c.k feebly, but his brother interrupted him.
”Come, d.i.c.k, do you suppose Kilshaw would have come to me, if he hadn't thought the matter serious? It wasn't a very pleasant interview for him.
I expect you've been making the pace pretty warm.”
d.i.c.k did not venture on a denial. He s.h.i.+fted about uneasily in his seat, and lit a cigarette with elaborate care.
”I don't want to be disagreeable,” pursued the Governor, ”but both for your sake and mine--not to speak of the girl's--I won't have anything that looks like trifling with her. You must make up your mind; you must go on, or you must drop it.”