Part 38 (1/2)

”I'm afraid you don't give him quite enough credit for brains,” said Constance, and giving her roses a deft parting turn she went down-stairs to meet Paul Gresham.

If Aunt Pattie had been pleased by the change in Constance, Gresham was delighted. This was the first time she had really beamed on him since she had met Johnny Gamble.

”You are always charming,” he observed, taking pleasure in his own gallantry, ”but to-day you seem unusually so.”

”That's pretty,” dimpled Constance. ”I wanted to look nice to-day.”

Mr. Gresham's self-esteem arose several degrees. He smiled his thanks of her compliment to the appointment he had made with her.

”My call to-day is rather a formal one,” he told her, smiling, and approaching the important subject-matter in hand directly but quite easily, he thought. ”It is in relation to the will of your Aunt Gertrude, which has been the cause of some embarra.s.sment to us both, and to you particularly, I fear.”

”Naturally,” she a.s.sented, still smiling, however.

This was easy sailing. Gresham walked over and took the chair nearest her.

”It is, of course, unnecessary to discuss the provisions made by your Aunt Gertrude,” he stated. ”Even had such a will never been written, I am quite sure that the result would have been the same, and that to-day, after the long friends.h.i.+p which I have enjoyed with you, I should be asking you, as I am now, to become my wife,” and taking her hand in his, he very gracefully kissed it.

Constance as gracefully drew it away.

”You have done your duty very nicely, Mr. Gresham,” she said. ”It must have been as awkward for you to be compelled to make this proposal as it is for me to be compelled to refuse it. It would be wicked for us to marry.”

”You are very harsh,” he managed to protest. ”I am sure that I should not feel wicked in marrying you.”

”Perhaps you haven't my sort of conscience,” answered Constance, laughing to conceal her intense hatred and contempt of him.

Gresham, adopting also the light manner of small talk, laughed with her.

”Really it wouldn't be so bad,” he urged. ”We would make a very fair couple when we were averaged. You are beautiful and accomplished enough to make up for all the deficiencies I may have.”

”You do say nice things to me,” acknowledged Constance, ”but there is one deficiency you have overlooked. We do not love each other, and that is fatal to Aunt Gertrude's rather impertinent plans. It renders even a discussion of the matter impossible. I can not marry you ever.”

Gresham's lips turned dry.

”I believe you really mean that,” he stumbled, unable quite to comprehend it.

”Certainly I do,” she a.s.sured him.

”But you don't understand,” he protested. ”You can't understand or you would at least take time for more serious consideration. You are relinquis.h.i.+ng your entire fortune!”

”Making myself a penniless pauper,” she mocked with a light-hearted feeling that some one--description mentally evaded--would make a fortune unnecessary.

”It is a million dollars,” he insisted.

”A million--that sounds familiar!” and she laughed in remembrance of her tilt with Polly.

Gresham swallowed three separate and very distinct times.

”A half-interest in that million is mine,” he complained. ”You can not turn over your share to an absurd charity without also throwing mine away. It is not fair.”

”Fair?” repeated Constance. For an instant she felt her temper surging, then caught herself and took refuge in burlesque. ”The only fair thing about it is that my Aunt Gertrude's will gave her orphaned niece the choice between a t.i.tle with riches and poverty with freedom,” and raising her eyes and hand toward heaven she started to sweep from the room with queenly grace, stifling a giggle as she went.