“Yes, that was it. He did something I did not like. Mr. Harrington would have said he had a perfect right to do as he pleased. But I could not marry him after that.”
“Was it anything so very bad?” asked Mrs. Wyndham, affectionately, smoothing Sybil’s thick fair hair.
“It was not as deep as a well, nor as broad as a house,” said Sybil, with a faint, scornful laugh; “but it was enough. It would do.”
“I wish you would tell me, dear,” persisted Mrs. Wyndham. “I have a particular reason for wanting to know.”
“Well, I would not have told before this other affair came out,” said Sybil. “I would not marry him because he tried to find out from poor mamma’s man of business whether we were rich. And the day after he got the information that I was rich enough to suit him, he proposed. But mamma knew all about what had gone on and told me, and so I refused him. She said I was wrong, and would not have told me if she had known it would make any difference. And now you say I was right. I am sure I was; it was only a fancy I had for him, because he was so clever and well-bred. Besides, he is much too old.”
“He is old enough to be your father, my dear,” said Mrs. Wyndham; “but I think you were a little hard on him. Almost any man would do the same. We here in Boston, of course, always know about each other. It was a little mean of him, no doubt, but it was not a mortal crime.”
“I think it was low,” said Sybil, decisively. “To think of a man as rich as that caring for a paltry twenty or thirty thousand a year.”
“I know, my dear,” said Mrs. Wyndham, “it is mean; but they all do it, and life is uncertain, and so is business I suppose, and twenty or thirty thousand a year does make a difference to most people, I expect.”
Mrs. Wyndham looked at the fire reflectively, as though not absolutely certain of the truth of the proposition. Sam Wyndham was commonly reputed to be worth a dozen millions or so. He would have been very well off even in New York, and in Boston he was rich.
“It would make a great difference to me,” said Sybil, laughing, “for it is all I have in the world. But I am glad I refused Vancouver on that ground, all the same. If it had not been for that I should have married him–just imagine!”