“I think not,” said the young man, smiling.
“We will not argue the point,” replied the old botanist, taking Guest’s hand. “We both think we know him better than anyone else, and after all have not half sounded the depths of his nature.”
“Well, I leave him to you,” said Guest. “I have no time to spare. I’m off now, old fellow,” he cried, approaching the bedroom door.
“All right,” cried Stratton cheerfully as he came back and held out his hand. “My kindest regards to Edie. Don’t be afraid, old fellow; I am going to behave sensibly. You need not fear a scene.”
“But I—”
“Don’t deny it, lad. Off with you,” said Stratton, smiling at his friend’s confusion; and he accompanied him out on to the landing. “God bless her!” he said. “I wish her every happiness with the man of her choice. It’s all over now, and I can bear it like a man.”
They shook hands and parted, and when, an hour later, Guest saw Myra enter the room, where he was just snatching a hurried word with Edie, he was startled at the white, set face, and strange, dreamy eyes, which looked in his when he spoke to her.
But what had been a bitter fight was at an end, and all its secrets hidden in the bride’s own breast. For a time, as it had dawned upon her that there was something warmer than friendship in her breast for Malcolm Stratton, she shrank in horror from the idea of pledging herself to the man she had accepted; but she fought with and crushed down her feelings. Stratton must, she felt, despise her now, and she was engaged to Barron. It was her father’s wish, and she had promised to be this man’s wife, while that he loved her he gave her no room to doubt.
“I will do my duty by him,” she said proudly to herself as she took her father’s arm; and as Guest was driven in another of the carriages to the church, he thought to himself that his friend had been blind in his love, for Myra was hard and unemotional as her cousin was sweet and lovable he misjudged her again as he saw her leave the church leaning upon her husband’s arm, while now he was privileged to escort Edie, one of the four bridesmaids, back to Bourne Square.
“She never would have cared for poor old Malcolm,” he said to himself as he followed the newly married couple with his eyes, Barron careworn and nearly as pale as his wife, but looking proud, eager, and handsome, as he handed Myra into the carriage.