"It is true. I am left without an inch of ground on which to found a complaint. There was no word; no promise. You know the whole story only too well. There was nothing but unlimited love,—at any rate on my part." Mr Whittlestaff knew well that there had been love on her part also, and that the love still remained. But she had promised to get over that passion, and there could be no reason why she should not do so, simply because the man had returned. He said he had come from Kimberley. Mr Whittlestaff had his own ideas about Kimberley. Kimberley was to him a very rowdy place,—the last place in the world from which a discreet young woman might hope to get a well-conducted husband. Under no circumstances could he think well of a husband who presented himself as having come direct from the diamond-fields, though he only looked stern and held his peace. "If Miss Lawrie will tell me that I may go away, I will go," said Gordon, looking again at Mary; but how could Mary answer him?
"I am sure," said Mr Whittlestaff, "that Miss Lawrie will be very sorry that there should be any ground for a quarrel. I am quite well aware that there was some friendship between you two. Then you went, as you say, and though the friendship need not be broken, the intimacy was over. She had no special reason for remembering you, as you yourself admit. She has been left to form any engagement that she may please. Any other expectation on your part must be unreasonable. I have said that, as an old friend of Miss Lawrie's, I should be happy to welcome you here to her wedding. I cannot even name a day as yet; but I trust that it may be fixed soon. You cannot say even to yourself that Miss Lawrie has treated you badly."
But he could say it to himself. And though he would not say it to Mr Whittlestaff, had she been there alone, he would have said it to her. There had been no promise,—no word of promise. But he felt that there had been that between them which should have been stronger than any promise. And with every word which came from Mr Whittlestaff's mouth, he disliked Mr Whittlestaff more and more. He could judge from Mary's appearance that she was down-hearted, that she was unhappy, that she did not glory in her coming marriage. No girl's face ever told her heart's secret more plainly than did Mary's at this moment. But Mr Whittlestaff seemed to glory in the marriage. To him it seemed that the getting rid of John Gordon was the one thing of importance. So it was, at least, that John Gordon interpreted his manner. But the name of the suitor had not yet been told him, and he did not in the least suspect it. "May I ask you when it is to be?" he asked.
"That is a question which the lady generally must answer," said Mr Whittlestaff, turning on his part also to Mary.
"I do not know," said Mary.
"And who is the happy man?" said John Gordon. He expected an answer to the question also from Mary, but Mary was still unable to answer him. "You at any rate will tell me, sir, the name of the gentleman."
"I am the gentleman," said Mr Whittlestaff, holding himself somewhat more erect as he spoke. The position, it must be acknowledged, was difficult. He could see that this strange man, this John Gordon, looked upon him, William Whittlestaff, to be altogether an unfit person to take Mary Lawrie for his wife. By the tone in which he asked the question, and by the look of surprise which he put on when he received the answer, Gordon showed plainly that he had not expected such a reply. "What! an old man like you to become the husband of such a girl as Mary Lawrie! Is this the purpose for which you have taken her into your house, and given her those good things of which you have boasted?" It was thus that Mr Whittlestaff had read the look and interpreted the speech conveyed in Gordon's eye. Not that Mr Whittlestaff had boasted, but it was thus that he read the look. He knew that he had gathered himself up and assumed a special dignity as he made his answer.
"Oh, indeed!" said John Gordon. And now he turned himself altogether round, and gazed with his full frowning eyes fixed upon poor Mary.
"If you knew it all, you would feel that I could not help myself." It was thus that Mary would have spoken if she could have given vent to the thoughts within her bosom.
"Yes, sir. It is I who think myself so happy as to have gained the affections of the young lady. She is to be my wife, and it is she herself who must name the day when she shall become so. I repeat the invitation which I gave you before. I shall be most happy to see you at my wedding. If, as may be the case, you shall not be in the country when that time comes; and if, now that you are here, you will give Miss Lawrie and myself some token of your renewed friendship, we shall be happy to see you if you will come at once to the house, during such time as it may suit you to remain in the neighbourhood." Considering the extreme difficulty of the position, Mr Whittlestaff carried himself quite as well as might have been expected.