"You are very good, my boy! Although I have only known you for six weeks, I am as fond of you as of an old friend,—and indeed you seem so. I've never saved money until lately. There will be enough for Nancy's passage, and perhaps my sister may take the child; she was a spoiled beauty, and is now, to all accounts, a hard, selfish woman. She and I have not spoken for twenty years. Still Nancy is her niece—her only near relative."
"Look here, sir," interrupted Mayne, "by rights I should be in your place,—it was all my fault. I was in too great a hurry. I blundered shockingly when I aimed, so deadly keen to shoot Sam's panther; but I only enraged her, and made her charge. You knew my father, and are good enough to say, you like me. I have five hundred a year, besides my pay—give Nancy into my care. Give Nancy—to me!"
Travers gazed at him steadily; the sunken dark eyes were interrogative.
"As my wife, of course," he continued nervously. "I swear to you, that I'll look upon her as a sacred trust, and do all I can to make her happy. As it is, we are capital friends; I believe she likes me—and I am awfully fond of her. We really know one another far better than most people who marry—having lived here together for the last six weeks. What do you say?"
"I am a bit surprised," replied Travers at last: "although the notion of my little Nance being married seems preposterous, you have lifted a heavy load off my mind, and God bless you." He put out a burning hand, which Mayne wrung. Then he added, "But I cannot allow you to talk as if I had sacrificed myself; it was all in the day's work, the fortune of war—and—I'll be with my other Nancy before long."
"May I speak to Nancy?" asked Mayne, after a short silence, "or shall I wait?"
"No, I never was a fellow to put off things. I'll see her as soon as possible,—and look here, Derek," and he gazed up at him appealingly, "would you think I was rushing you, if I asked you to have the marriage before I go? Then she will not be left so desolate, my poor little darling. She will have her natural protector. Do you mind? I know—it may seem a bit sudden."
"No," replied Mayne firmly. "I think it will be best. I'll make arrangements at once."
"All right, then I'll have a talk to Nancy by and by, and you shall hear what she says. Of course I know there's never been any sort of flirting, or love-making between you—she's just a child! but I'd leave her with a happy mind, if I knew that my little girl was in the care of a good, honest fellow, like yourself. It will be a queer coincidence if Derek Mayne's son is to be the husband of my daughter. The parson will be here to-morrow, and may find two jobs. Ah, Nurse, all right—I'll stop! No, I've not been doing myself any harm—very much the other way. Good-night, my boy."