Guy was capable of hearing a good deal without committing himself. He would not promise to reason with Jeanie, nor to telegraph to Godfrey; but he agreed to interview Mr Van Brunt, and in his secret heart, he hoped that that dry-goods store in Chicago might prove to be solvent, and its owner’s character and intentions clear as the day, and that his duty as “one of the family” would not be to protect Jeanie from the snares of an adventurer.
There were sounds of arrival late that night, and when he came down the next morning, Jeanie waylaid him on the stairs, looking, in spite of her smart tailor-made frock and well-dressed hair, very like the shy Jeanie of the Mill House, Ingleby.
“Oh, Guy,” she said, “mother’s been talking to you—and please—I’ve got something to say. It’s your brother’s own fault, if I’ve changed my mind. Besides, I hadn’t seen anything of society then. I’ve quite a right, it was settled I had—to choose for myself.”
“Certainly,” said Guy, leading the way out on to the verandah. “I’ve promised your mother to talk to Mr Van Brunt, if he comes.”
“He has come,” said Jeanie, meekly. “He came after we went to bed last night. Oh,”—sitting down at one of the little tables laid for breakfast, and making a pattern on the tablecloth with the rolls—“people are silly—and—and there was ever so much nonsense at Kirkton. But there—Godfrey won’t be disappointed. I’m sure, if he had wanted to come back, he never would have stopped away because you were ill. Any one may give away roses to anybody. But when you leave them behind on your dressing-table, and they come down in the vase, to be done up for the next person—well, you don’t care very much anyhow. Oh—oh—you didn’t stay long at Munich, Mr Van Brunt—good morning. This is my cousin—Mr Waynflete.”
A slender, dark-haired young man, with bright eyes behind a pair of pince-nez, made Guy a formal bow, and Jeanie vanished, while her “cousin,” considerably embarrassed, bowed much less gracefully, and remarked that it was a fine morning.
“It is so,” remarked the American; “but, Mr Waynflete, I’m very glad to make your acquaintance, understanding that you take quite the place of a brother to Miss Palmer.”
“Well—a—not exactly,” began Guy, thinking that Jeanie must have come down very early to produce this understanding.
“She assures me that, if you are satisfied, her mother’s scruples will be set at rest. Allow me to make it clear. Here is my card—Lawrence P. Van Brunt. I refer to my bankers, — and —, London, and to the American Minister in Great Britain, also the British Consul at Chicago. I—I dare say I may seem hurried, but I came over a month ago on business, and must cross again in a fortnight.”
He laid a row of papers and letters of introduction beside the rolls on the table.