“If it were not such a serious matter,” said Sir Matthew with a grim smile, “One could have a hearty laugh over the irony of fate. Here we are with an unconscious little slip of a girl and she holds everything in her hands. For if the difficulty as to her fortune becomes known, then a dozen other things will collapse shortly after. God bless my soul—it’s awful to think of!”
“So much the more reason to play this part of the game warily,” said Bruce Wylie. “It is like the story of the child’s hand thrust into the leaking dam and saving the country from the deluge that would otherwise have come about. I must capture Evereld’s hand and hold it fast to save the general ruin; whether she likes it or not it will have to be done.”
“And the girl cares for you, there will be no harm in it,” said Sir Matthew suavely. “I tell you what, Wylie, at Glion we must gradually let people see that you are in love with her. That will be easy enough without alarming her. We will set some of the women folk clacking. And if Evereld’s pride is once touched, if she feels that she has been gossiped about, that people see that she has encouraged you, and that she is a little compromised, why then we shall win easily enough. She will very readily be persuaded into an engagement, and we will take good care to have her married before the year is out.”
“Very well,” said Bruce Wylie. “At Glion we will advance to the next stage. It will be a more amusing one than the present, and will need skilful management. I must think things over. By the bye, she never mentions Ralph Denmead, her old playfellow. Have you lost sight of him?”
“She told me last Christmas that he was going most likely on some tour in Scotland. Here she comes, we will just ask her, but you need fear nothing in that quarter. It was just a natural childish friendship between the two. They know each other’s faults too well to fall in love.”
“I see that young Oxonian is persecuting her,” observed Bruce Wylie, watching a sunburnt undergraduate who had taken to following Evereld about on all occasions. She did not seem to be at all responsive, and her face lighted up most satisfactorily when she perceived Sir Matthew, while her companion was visibly chagrined.
“Watching the afterglow?” said Sir Matthew, as they approached.
“It’s hardly worth watching to-night,” said the Oxonian sulkily, as he noticed the alacrity with which Evereld moved towards Bruce Wylie. What the girl could see in this conceited fellow he could not imagine.
“We were just speaking of Ralph Denmead, Evereld,” said Sir Matthew. “Have you heard of him lately?”
“Yes, I hear from him now and then, and I saw him not so very long ago,” said Evereld. “He was with Macneillie’s Company when they were at Southbourne.” By a strong effort of self-control she kept both voice and manner perfectly calm and natural.