“You are the noblest man I have ever known. I shall never forget your generosity—your goodness to one who would be treated with scorn and contumely by all who knew her story. With all my heart I thank you and Reginald. Please tell him and that I appreciate the honour he does me to the uttermost, but dear Mr. Gascoigne—I—” she flushed scarlet, and raised her face appealingly to his; “I—have never thought of him in that way, only as a friend. And now that I know who I am,” gathering strength as she went on, “I shall never marry. You will understand me, will you not? I must go right away—to London, and earn my own living where no one knows me. Mary Allen, who used to be at the farm, is married respectably to an ex-butler, and they let lodgings near Russell Square. I can go there, can I not? Please do not be angry with me, Mr. Gascoigne.”
“I am not angry, my dear. Think it all over at your leisure, there is no hurry whatever for a few days. Reginald will not be here for a fortnight. Your money is so well invested that it has increased to fifteen hundred pounds, but that only means about seventy pounds a year, and the lessons will be a consideration. That, my dear, will be my affair; as your guardian I insist upon it, and you will not refuse me. And what about that paper?”
“I will burn it,” said Muriel, putting it into the fire when she had again thanked him. “And when I am successful you will let me pay off my debt, please?” smiling sadly. “If I am a failure——”
“Never despair—you have youth, beauty, and talent; and you have a home here whenever you like to come. By the bye, here is your father’s portrait. His face is a very fine one.”
She took it eagerly, and after a long scrutiny kissed it passionately again and again.
“Captain Ainslie must have been a traitor of the deepest dye to wrong such a friend as my father—and he escaped scot-free,” she said, in tones of concentrated scorn and contempt. “No doubt he is living in happiness and luxury, reckless of the misery he caused.”
“He may have really loved your mother. For five years he led a wandering life. Of course he left the regiment, loathed by everyone in it. Then he married, and settled down in the West Indies. I ascertained this myself; but I do not know now whether he is living or dead.”
CHAPTER II.
A railway train is sometimes the scene of much misery in those who travel by its carriages; sometimes of much mirth, most often of the assumed indifference adopted by English people as a rule, and which, despite the contempt with which it is spoken of by dwellers on the Continent, is also the theme of admiration to chatterers.
Two people occupying a first class carriage, of congenial sympathies, can often while away the tedium of several hours. If their sympathies are opposed, they will of course entertain mutual distrust and dislike.