"I'll come with you now," Ralph answered. "I don't care to smoke, and I never touch wine after dinner. I fear Sir George wants to talk business, which seems to me to be a desecration on an evening like this. Shall we go outside?"
"I think it would be nice," Mary said. "No, I shall not need a wrap."
She stepped through the double French window that led to the lawn. The full light of the moon flashed on her ivory shoulders and played in gilded shadows on her hair. As she looked upwards, Ralph could catch the exquisite symmetry of her face. A desire to speak possessed him, a desire to tell the girl strange and wonderful things. Here was his heart's object standing pale and beautiful by his side; he had only to stretch out his hands and the flowers were his for the plucking. It only needed a few words and the whole situation would be changed. But Ralph was silent, he was too strong and masterful a man for that. What he won he would win by sheer merit, by intrinsic worth alone. He could have purchased the kisses and caresses for which his heart hungered, but he knew that they would be no more than Dead Sea fruit on his lips.
"You are very silent," Mary said at length. "What are you thinking about?"
"About you," Ralph said boldly. "I was thinking how beautiful you looked with the fuller moonlight on your face. It is only when you recollect that you are Miss Dashwood, of Dashwood Hall, that I like your expression least. And you are not always happy."
"What do you mean by that?" Mary asked. There was a startled look in her eyes. "Why should I not be happy?"
"Why, indeed! But the fact remains that you are not. I do not want to appear inquisitive, but there is a worm in the heart of the rose somewhere. Mary, why do you allow your father to ask Mayfield here when you dislike him so much? Though you are exclusive and can show your pride, yet you allow that man to be insolently familiar with you. He laid his hand on your arm tonight, and I could have struck him for it. It is not as if you cared for him----"
"Oh, no, no," Mary said with a shudder. "I detest him. He is so cold and calculating, you cannot chock him off. I thought that when I refused to marry him----"
"Ha! I expected something of the kind. Mayfield is not the man to take 'No' for an answer once he has set his heart upon a thing. I told you before that he was a scoundrel, and I am in a position to prove it. Not that the fellow has done anything to bring himself within the grip of the law--your City rascal is too clever for that. And your father is afraid of him; he watches him as a dog watches his master. If he is in the power of that man he must get out without delay. He must raise money on the property----"