In some respects the dreaded farewell at “Monte Carlo” was even more trying than Douglas had anticipated. His relatives had learned and digested his news; to them, it seemed an uplifting of the entire connection. After pushing congratulations and some high-flown talk respecting the delights of his future career and “position,” the girls, as if by mutual agreement, rose and left him alone with their mother.
Thus abandoned to a tete-à-tete, after a lengthy silence, Mrs. Larcher, sitting among the collapsible spring’s, began to speak in a shaky voice.
“Ahem! We have all seen, Douglas, how devotedly attached you are to Cossie, and the marked attentions you have paid her. Of course, on such a small salary you were too honourable to say anything definite. Ahem! But now that you are in a better position, with splendid prospects, I have no objection to an engagement, and as soon as you are comfortably settled in Rangoon, Cossie will join you.”
Douglas instantly lifted himself out of his chair and confronted the unfortunate catspaw; standing erect before her, he said:
“My dear Aunt Emma, kindly understand once for all that I am not in love with Cossie. I have never made love to her, or ever shall. I like her as a cousin—but no more. Even if I were madly in love, I could not marry; my screw will barely keep myself.”
“Oh, but you’ll get on!” interposed his aunt eagerly. “They all do out there, and you who are so well educated and gentlemanly will soon be drawing high pay, and keeping dozens of black servants, and a motor—and you know poor Cossie is so fond of you.”
“I am truly sorry to hear you say so; I cannot imagine why she should be fond of me; or why, quite lately, she has got this preposterous idea into her head. Naturally it is a delicate subject to discuss with you, Aunt Emma; but I declare on my honour that I have never thought of Cossie but just as a jolly sort of girl and a cousin.”
“But you have given her presents, my darling boy; yes, and written to her,” urged the poor lady, clinging to the last straw.
“I have given her chocolates, and a couple of pairs of gloves, and answered her notes; and if Cossie imagines that every man who gives her chocolates, and answers notes about tea and tennis, is seriously in love with her, she must be incredibly foolish. Cossie knows in her heart that I have never cast her a thought, except as a relation; and, as a matter of fact, of the two girls I like Delia the best! I don’t want to say unpleasant things when I’m on the point of going away—probably for years. I hoped to have spent a jolly long day among you, but from what you have just told me I really could not face it, and I must ask you to say good-bye to my cousins for me. I will write to you, Aunt Emma, as soon as I get out to Rangoon. You have always been very kind, and made me feel at home here; you may be sure I won’t forget it.” And he stooped down suddenly and gave her a hearty kiss. Then before the poor stout lady could struggle out of the cavity which her weight had made in the Chesterfield Douglas had departed. She heard the close of the hall door, immediately followed by the click of the garden gate. Yes, he was gone! And Cossie, who all the time had been listening on the top of the stairs, instantly descended like a wolf on the fold. She would have run out bareheaded after Douglas, but that her more prudent sister actually restrained her by violent physical force; and then, what a scene she made! Oh, what recriminations and angry speeches and reproaches she showered upon her unhappy parent!
“You told me to sound him about an engagement, and I did. Oh, but it was a hateful job, and here’s my thanks!” whimpered Mrs. Larcher. “He looked awfully white and stern, and said he only likes you as a cousin, and that he had no intention of anything—and I believe him. It was only in the last two months, since Freddy Soames broke it off, that you’ve gone out of your way to hang on to Douglas. I’m sure I wish there had been something in it—he’s a dear good boy, and I could love him like a son,” and the poor lady sobbed aloud.