He had no notion how differently people regard the same person when one looks from the standpoint of five-and-fifty and the other from the standpoint of nineteen.
Evereld saw merely the lawyer who had brought her chocolates when she was a little girl, she knew that he was at least nine-and-forty, and that from her point of view was elderly; the thirty years between them made a huge chasm which it would never have occurred to her to bridge over in any way but that of friendship. Even the friendship could not be the same sort of thing as that close friendship, that perfect understanding which comes between two people of the same generation. It would have had in it something of the position of master and pupil, which might have been delightful enough with some men, but she had never felt any desire to learn from Bruce Wylie. She liked him merely because he passed the time, because he had a fund of good stories and an easy natural way of telling them.
So when Sir Matthew complacently noticed the way in which her face lighted up as she greeted Bruce Wylie, he was wholly unable to guess that the reception meant about as much as a child’s joyful greeting of the appearance of the clown in a pantomime. “Now we shall have some fun,” reflected Evereld, gladly finding the new comer beside her in the railway carriage.
“I need have no scruples,” reflected Sir Matthew. “She evidently likes him and encourages him.”
Bruce Wylie was not so sure in his own heart how matters stood, for Evereld was almost too frank and open with him, it was perfectly impossible to flirt with her, she liked him in the most unabashed manner, just as she had done when she was a child of eleven. Her enjoyment of his talk was what it had been then, and he was quite without the power of kindling in her heart any deeper feeling.
Being a shrewd man he laid his plans warily, and worked patiently, never venturing to make actual love to her. At all costs he must avoid startling her, or making her draw back from that frank friendliness which was likely to prove so useful. But every day he was her special companion, and she could not help feeling grateful to him for the care he took of her, the pains he took to please her, and the real enjoyment which he managed to impart to what would otherwise have been rather a trying tour.
“Why do you hesitate longer,” urged Sir Matthew, during their stay at Zermatt, “September is nearly half gone, we have but another fortnight abroad. Why not propose to the girl here?”
“Not yet, not yet,” said Bruce Wylie, “I tell you, Mactavish, she has not a thought of anything of the kind. She treats me as if I were her grandfather.”
“It seems to me that she is devoted to you,” said Sir Matthew. “She has not a word to say to any of the young men in the hotel though they are ready enough to admire her. She deliberately avoids them, I have noticed her, and is hand and glove with you. What more would you have?”
“Oh, I will arrange it all before the end of the tour,” said Bruce Wylie, “by hook or crook it must be done. Let me see; to-morrow we go to Glion for a fortnight. It is there that we must contrive the finale.”