A look of intense happiness came into his face, and tears sprang to his eyes; for he was still weak, and the relief brought to him was overpowering.
Grafton sat down by the sofa. "She has told me all about it," he said. "If it's what she wants, it's what I want for her."
As he spoke he searched the young man's face, to see, if he could, what there was in him that he hadn't seen already, but she had seen to such surprising effect. He caught a glimpse of it. It was a strong face. The diffidence that had been perhaps the chief note of this young man's behaviour towards them all had been based upon his youth and inexperience. They had represented to him a side of life in which he had not been, and probably never would be, at home. But it was the conventional side of life. In the big, basic things he would not show diffidence. And he would grow into his man's good strength.
He had grown already. He looked the older man straight in the face as he said: "I've done nothing to deserve her yet. But if you'll give her to me I will."
Worthing came to dine that evening. Grafton was to tell him about it when they were alone together after dinner. Miss Waterhouse, only, had been told so far. She had shown no surprise, but had said very little. Grafton was not sure whether she approved or not, but knew that she would express herself to him by and bye, in her quiet way that was full of wisdom.
Worthing had been up to see Maurice before dinner. He was rather quieter than usual until he and his host were left alone together. When Caroline and Miss Waterhouse had gone out of the room, he said at once: "Grafton, I've got to get something off my chest, and I may as well do it at once. I think the sooner young Bradby is moved out of here the better."
Grafton laughed, rather ruefully. "You should have said that a fortnight ago," he said. "It's too late now, James."
Worthing stared at him open-mouthed. "You don't mean to say—!"
"They've fallen in love with one another. She's as deep in it as he is."