Her face fell; she let go of his arm, and her lips were very dry, while she whispered, "Three thousand!"
He was staggered, and showed it, though he tried hard not to look surprised. Few men can lay their hands on three thousand pounds of hard money, at a moment's notice, without some personal inconvenience. Now the General was no capitalist, though in easy circumstances, and drawing the half-pay of his rank; to him such an outlay meant a decreased income for the rest of his life.
She was quite right about his being a gentleman. In a few seconds he had recovered his composure; in half a minute he said quietly—
"You shall have it at once. I am only so glad to be able to oblige you, that I wish it was more difficult. And now, Miss Douglas, you always say I'm a sad fidget, I'll go about it directly: I'll only ask you to come with me to the end of the walk."
She was crying beneath her veil; he saw the tears dropping on her hands, and would have liked to kiss them away on any other occasion but this.
"To the end of the world!" she answered, with the sobs and smiles of a child. "There's nobody like you—nobody!—not even King Arthur! Ask what you will, I'll never refuse you—never—as long as I live!"
But it need hardly be said that the General would rather have cut off his right hand, than presumed on the position in which her confidence had placed him. Though she appreciated his consideration, she hardly understood why his manner became so unusually respectful and courteous, why his farewell under the supervision of a cabman and a gate-keeper—should be almost distant; why he lifted his hat to her, at parting, as he would to the queen—but, while he replaced it on his bald and grizzled head, Blanche Douglas was nearer being in love than she suspected with this true, unselfish admirer, who was old enough to be her father.
In women, far more than in men, there can exist an affection that springs from the head alone. It is the result of respect, admiration, and gratitude. It is to be won by devotion, consistency, above all, self-control; and, like a garden flower, so long as it is tended with attention, prospers bravely till autumn cools the temperature, and saddens all the sky. But this is a very different plant from the weed, wild rose, nightshade—call it what you will—that is sown by the winds of heaven, to strike root blindly and at haphazard in the heart; sweeter for being trampled, stronger for being broken, proof against the suns that scorch, the winds that shatter, the worm that eats away its core, and, refusing to die, even in the frown of winter, under the icy breath of scorn and unmerited neglect.
Which of these kindred sentiments the General had succeeded in awakening, was a problem he shrank from setting himself honestly to solve. He tried to hope it might be the one; he felt sadly convinced it was only the other. Traversing the gardens with swift, unequal strides, so as to leave them at the very farthest point from where his companion made her exit, for he was always loyal to les convenances, he argued the question with his own heart, till he dared not think about it any longer, subsiding at last into composure, with the chivalrous reflection, that, come what might, if he could but minister to the happiness of Blanche Douglas, he would grudge no sacrifice, even the loss of his money—shrink from no disappointment, even the destruction of his hopes.
Satanella meanwhile had selected a Hansom cab, in which to make her homeward journey, characteristically choosing the best-looking horse on the stand. To be seen, however, spanking along, at the rate of twelve miles an hour, in such a vehicle, she reflected, might be considered fast in a young unmarried lady, and originate, also, surmises as to the nature of her expedition; for it is quite a mistake to suppose that people in London are either blind or dumb, because they have so much on hand of their own, that they cannot devote all their attention to the business of their neighbours. With commendable modesty, therefore, she kept her parasol well before her face, so as to remain unrecognised by her friends, while she scanned everything about her with the keen, bright glances of a hawk. Bowling past Kingston House, then, and wondering whether it would not be possible, in time, to raise a domestic pedestal for General St. Josephs, on which she might worship him as a hero, if she could not love him as a Cupid, her Hansom cab passed within six inches of another, moving rapidly in the opposite direction; and who should be seated therein, smoking a cigar, with a white hat and light-coloured gloves, but ruined, reckless, never-to-be-forgotten Daisy!