I felt more moved even than I should have cared to own, for I was just in that mood when kind words are sweet, and I had always liked Lady Olive.
"You are very good," I said, warmly. "Believe me, it is a great pleasure to me to hear you say this."
"Have you any idea yet where you are going?" she asked, "or what you are going to do?"
I shook my head.
"To London, first, and then I shall try and discover my father, and get him to let me throw in my lot with his. Somehow I think that I shall end by being a soldier. It's in the blood, I suppose."
"Mr. Arbuthnot," she said, frankly, stretching out her hand, "may we not be friends? I have never asked so much of a man before, but—but——"
I took her little hand, and did not at once release it.
"I shall be always glad to think of you as such," I said, warmly; "but I'm afraid it isn't very likely that we shall meet again after I leave here. My life and yours will lie very far apart."
"I'm not so sure of that," she answered, with an attempt at gaiety. "I'm going to travel about a good deal next year; and—and, Mr. Arbuthnot," she added, colouring a little deeper, "I know you'll forgive me for saying it, but my father—he's ambassador at Rome now, you know—has a good deal of influence in London, and especially at the Foreign Office, and if there was anything we could do for you—oh, you know what I want to say," she broke off, suddenly, and looking away that I might not see the tears in her eyes. "You may want to try and get some appointment abroad or something, or even if you decided to go into the army, he might be useful to you, and he would do anything I asked him. He is very kind, and—and it would make me very happy to feel that we were helping you a little."
Was it so great a sin that for a moment I longed to draw that tearful little face down to mine and kiss it? I had never been in the least danger of falling in love with Lady Olive, bright and fascinating though she was, but at that moment it occurred to me that the man who won her would be a very fortunate man indeed.