"Should you like to be very rich?" asked her companion, smiling to himself over these naïve confessions. He was gazing, not only into her eyes, but at her lovely throat and arms, and imagining how they would look with diamonds on them.
"Yes," said Rachel. "But the great thing I wish is not to be poor. I hope—oh, I do hope—I shall never be poor any more!"
"I don't think you stand in the least danger of that," said Mr. Kingston.
"I know all about it," continued the girl gravely; "and I don't think you do, or you could not laugh or make a joke of it. You cannot know how much it means. You never have debts, of course."
"Debts? Oh, dear, yes, I do—plenty."
"Yes, but I mean debts that you can't pay—that you have to apologise for—that hang and drag about you always. I won't talk about it," she added hurriedly, with a little shiver; "it will spoil my pleasure to-night."
"Don't," said Mr. Kingston. He did not find it a congenial topic either. "Tell me what you would do if you were rich."
"What I would do?" she murmured gently, smiling again. "Oh, all kinds of things—I would pay ready money for everything, in the first place. Then I would have a lovely house, with quantities of pictures. That is one great fault in our house at Toorak—we have no nice pictures. And I would wear black velvet dresses. And I would have a beautiful sealskin jacket. And a thorough-bred horse to ride——"
"Oh, do you ride?" interposed Mr. Kingston, eagerly.
"I used to ride. I like it very much. My father gave me a beautiful mare once; but afterwards he rode a steeplechase with her, and she fell and broke her back. I can ride very well," she added, smiling and blushing. "I can jump fences without being afraid. But Uncle Hardy keeps only carriage horses, and none of the family ride."