It was a sample of Elsa’s taste that she illuminated all her rooms with the soft flame of candles or the mellow light of lamps. The mahogany furniture, much of it very old and historic among the island families, gleamed in the warm lights. There were built-in shelves of books against one wall, splendid engravings, etchings, and a few colored prints of the daughters of Louis XV.
Presently Elsa came down the broad staircase. Her hair was parted simply in the middle and done into two wheels, one over each pink ear. Her dress was a plain one of China silk with a square Dutch neck. It fitted her splendid figure beautifully.
Never had she appeared to Code so fresh and simple. The great lady was gone, the keen advocate had disappeared, the austere arbiter of Freekirk Head’s destinies was no more. She seemed a girl. He arose and took her hand awkwardly.
“I am glad you came so soon,” she said; “but aren’t you neglecting other people? I’m sure there must be friends who would like to see you.”
“Perhaps so, but this time they must wait until I have paid my respects to you. As far as actions go, you are the only friend I have.”
“You are getting quite adept at turning a phrase,” she said, smiling.
“Not as adept as you in turning heaven and earth to liberate an innocent man.”
“I have no answer to that,” she replied. “But seriously, Code, I hope you didn’t come up to thank me again to-night. Please don’t. It embarrasses me. We know each other well enough, I think, to do little things without the endless social prating that should accompany them.”
“You’ve been a dear!” he cried, and took one of her hands in his. She did not move. “Elsa, I want you for my wife!”