CHAPTER VI.
[AN OLD FRIEND AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.]
'He here! He introduced to me by her! What does this mean? What can this mean?' At that moment half-defined mental doubts looked in upon him out of satyr faces. 'This man here! This man introduced to me by her! What can it mean?' 'Parkinson!' echoed Miss Gordon. 'Parkinson! Surely I have heard that name very lately, and yet I never knew the name of Ethel's husband.' 'Well,' said the stranger, with a smile, 'I am Ethel's husband, and I am Parkinson!' 'This is the gentleman of whose address I told you yesterday,' said Osborne drearily. Now she saw what had caused that expression in George's face. He had been disturbed by that address. This Mr Parkinson, Ethel Waring's husband, was not of George's way of thinking in religious matters, and George had been made miserable by imagining she was about to pass under influence the direct opposite of what he would have selected. How like George to give his first consideration to her! But she was not so weak as he fancied, and she would show him that if she had at one time been liable to a charge of levity, that time had passed away for ever. 'Oh, indeed!' she said aloud. 'You must know Mrs Parkinson was the dearest friend I had in the world when I was a child. Once when I was very young she saved my life. I had taken poison by mistake, and only for her I should have died. After that we were inseparable, until her father and mother brought her to England ten years ago. Ethel heard in a roundabout way that I was here. We have not heard of one another for years, not since she left Australia. She did not know what her address in London would be when she left; and almost immediately after her going away we moved from Sydney to Queensland, and lost sight of one another.' Mr Parkinson bowed and smiled. 'Mr Parkinson, Mr Osborne,' she said gaily. 'I have heard my wife speak a good deal of her old girl-friend, Miss Gordon, and I hope Miss Gordon will give me an opportunity of trying to win her good opinion of Ethel's husband.' There was a subduing courtesy about the words and manner. Marie turned to Osborne and said,-- 'Mr Parkinson has asked me to dine with him to-day. He is here on behalf of Ethel, who could not come, I should like to go. Has any arrangement been made for this evening?' 'No. Nothing that would interfere with your going.' 'Perhaps,' said Mr Parkinson, with his suave smile, and a bow which brought Osborne and his sister within its scope, 'your friends would favour us with their company. They would be very welcome.' For a moment Osborne looked at his sister, then down at the carpet. Marie had promised to go to see her old friend. What more natural than that she should wish to see this friend who had saved her life once, and who formed, no doubt, the only link between the present and a happy period of the past? He was engaged to her. She was alone in the world. He was her natural guardian. Why should he not go with her? There was no earthly reason for his not going but one--fear. Fear! Was he afraid? He, who had only that day given such sound and solemn counsel to her! He, who had all his life fought the fight of failing man fighting manfully! He, who had spent the twenty-eight years of his life without one pang of doubt until a few hours ago! Was he going to shirk contact with doubt? Not he. He was no coward. She saw his hesitancy. 'He thinks there may be danger to me in these people. I had promised to go to Ethel before I knew who her husband was. But now ought I to change my mind and not go? Surely not. Nothing could be more absurd, more unwise, than that. To decline going would be to admit I had some uneasy feeling. I have none. I am as sure of myself as I am of my love. He is now using all the faculties of his mind to find out whether or not there would be danger for me in my going to Parkinson's. Harm for me after to-day! Harm for me in the face of the promise I made him, the vow I made to God to-day! I am placing George in a false position by being engaged to him, and at the same time causing him anxiety as to my power of keeping my promise to him. This must not be. I must never put George in a false position. What are all my life, all my interests, all my hopes, compared with him? Nothing. Oh, my love, I love you better than all things!' She raised her eyes to Mr Parkinson, and said, in a cheerful, light voice, 'I am sure Mr Osborne will not refuse you.' She bent over Osborne and touched him on the arm, saying, 'Your sister and you must come. I make this a condition to my going.' Osborne looked up at her and glanced at his sister, and said,-- 'Will you go, Kate?' 'As you please.' 'Then, Mr Parkinson, we shall be very happy to accept your invitation.' Parkinson had seen a look of worship in those grave manly eyes, and he had seen the answering look of love. He guessed how matters stood, and from that moment forward treated George as the responsible master of the party. Now Osborne felt more at ease than for any moment during the past four-and-twenty hours. He had secured his sweetheart, they had solemnly pledged their troth, and he had so clearly and firmly defined the position he should hold morally and spiritually, that he was no longer in fear of anything--in fact, he was less than indifferent to recent fears, and would rather court than shun the occasion of them. Marie felt in great delight with his acquiescence in her request. It showed his confidence in her. It showed her how he valued her word, her resolution, at their true worth. She would justify his confidence. She would show this lover how she respected his devotion and faith. What to her were all the sciences and all the savants of the world compared to this one simple gentleman, who honoured her insignificant self with his love? Nothing; not a featherweight against all the world. What a privilege for any woman to share the confidence, the thoughts of such a man! Judged by the ordinary standard, he was far in advance of most men. His powerful, square, broad shoulders showed he could protect the woman of his choice against long odds. He could easily dispose of Nevill and Parkinson if occasion required him to do so. His face, full of manly beauty, must gather the glances of any room he entered. And then his eyes. What a charm was in his eyes! A resolute, quiet, manly dignity, nothing could hurt, nothing could degrade. And for her, and for her alone, what a spirit of heedful care! When he looked at her in that way she felt bold against all the world. Nothing could harm her while that guardian spirit watched over her. Nothing. 'Oh, my master, my lord, my king, rule me until I die. Lead, and I will follow! As you will it, under God, I will do!'