‘Can’t you get him to stand out, and, Alured, can’t you—fetch along that old tall talk mummy? He would hit our people, being American himself.’
‘It is impossible. Jones Harvey will never stand out,’ and Bude smiled.
By the telepathy of the affections Miss McCabe was slowly informed, especially as Bude’s smile widened almost unbecomingly, while he gazed into the deeps of her golden eyes.
‘Alured,’ she exclaimed, ‘that’s why you went to the States. You—are—Jones Harvey!’
‘Secret for secret,’ whispered the earl. ‘We have both given ourselves away. Unknown to the world I am Jones Harvey; to live for you: to love you: to dare; if need be, to die for you.’
‘Well, you surprise me!’ said Miss McCabe.
* * * * *
The narrator is unwilling to dilate on the delights of a privileged affection. In this love affair neither of the lovers could feel absolutely certain that their affection was privileged. The fair American had her own secret scheme if her hopes were blighted. She could not then obey the paternal will: she would retire into the life religious, and, as Sister Anna, would strive to forget the sorrows of Melissa McCabe. Bude had his own hours of gloom.
‘It is a six-to-one chance,’ he said to Merton when they met.
‘Better than that, I think,’ said Merton. ‘First, you know exactly what you are entered for. Do the others? When you saw the trustees in the States, did they tell you about the prize?’