He sat down silently to his books and papers. A couple of official
reports lay open, and Victoria knew that he was going to an important
county meeting that evening, where he was to be in the chair. Many older
men, men who had won their spurs in politics or business, would be there,
and it was entirely by their wish--their kindly wish--that Harry would
take the lead. They desired to see him treading in the steps of his
forefathers.
Perched on the end of his writing table, she watched her son a moment. It
seemed to her she saw already what the young face would be like when it
was old. A pang struck her.
"Harry--is there anything wrong?"
He looked up quite simply and stretched his hand to her.
"I asked her to marry me last night."
"Well?" The colour rushed into the mother's face.
"No go. She doesn't love me. She wants us to be friends."
Victoria gasped.
"But she's coming to sit to Delorme this afternoon!"
"Because I asked her."
"Harry, dear boy, for both your sakes--either all or nothing! If she
doesn't care--break it off."
"There's nothing to break off, dearest. And don't ask me not to see her.
I couldn't. Who knows? She's got her ideas. Of course I've got mine.
Perhaps--after all--I may win. Or, if not--perhaps"--he shaded his face
with his hand--"she'll show me--how not to mind. I know she wants to."
Silence a moment. Then the lad's hand dropped. He smiled at Victoria.
"Let's fall in! There's nothing else to do anyway.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241