"I can't help being grateful," she said; "as grateful as if I actually possessed the fortune, which, of course, I never shall. Aunt Russelthorpe need have no fears."
Her smile and the little gesture with which she put aside the notion of benefiting by the legacy, filled him momentarily with the old half-tender amusement with which he used to listen to Margaret Deane's wildly unpractical utterances. Then the amusement was swamped in bitterness against the man who had taken advantage of her.
If Margaret had been his wife, she might have been as loftily unpractical as she chose, and she would have been no whit the worse for it.
George saw how the pretty hands, whose delicacy he had admired, were tanned and roughened; how the silver wedding ring on her finger, that had taken the place of the pearls she had worn once, was much too loose for her; how the dimples were gone that he had liked to watch for.
He had often said something to make his rather serious little lady smile for the pleasure of seeing them. Now, inwardly, he cursed the preacher with a vigour that would have startled his companion considerably if she could have read his heart.
"The conditions are absurd on the face of them," she was saying. "Barnabas could not agree to them; nor could I. To fulfil them would mean going back to——"
"To your natural position," said George. "Perhaps Mr. Thorpe's scruples might be overcome. Most men see the iniquity of wealth from a different point of view if they have a chance of handling it—I mean no disrespect to the preacher, naturally," he added hastily.
"I should hope not," said Meg; and her gravely surprised eyes made him wonder whether Barnabas Thorpe still took the trouble to deceive her.
"I daresay you know best about most men, but I know that Barnabas could never see things differently for his own advantage. I will write to him to-night, and you shall see his answer. I am quite sure of him."
"Ah! and you are not at all disappointed, and you are quite happy here, and his relatives are all very kind to you? You look as if you had had a remarkably easy time of it, don't you?" cried George. "I am glad you are so fortunate——" he checked himself suddenly. "I ought to be going," he said, with rather an abrupt pull up. He took out his watch and studied it, not her, when he took his leave. "I don't know whether you care to see me again? I had several things to tell you about—about your own people—your father and——"