“I beg pardon,” Edith added hurriedly. “I mean that he is thoroughly industrious, conscientious, religious, and all the other good ‘ouses.’ Would you believe it? After he had gone to bed last night, he came downstairs in an old ulster and undid a great box with a rope round it in order to get a Bible out. I heard the noise, and thinking one of the servants must be ill, or something, went to see what was the matter. There at 2.30 a.m. I met him on the stairs in that costume, and a queer couple we must have looked. I asked him what on earth he was doing with the luggage. Thereon he calmly explained that by mistake he put his Bible into the trunk he had in his cabin, and that as he did not like to disturb me to borrow one at that time of night he had to go to find it, and he showed me a large, frayed book which had been rebound, by himself he remarked, with a deer’s skin. He added gravely that it was his custom always to read a portion of the Scriptures—that’s what he said—before going to bed, that he hadn’t missed doing so for years and wasn’t going to now. I answered that was what I called true religion, and we parted. I didn’t tell him how glad I was that he hadn’t knocked me up and asked for a Bible, for upon my word, I don’t know where I should have found one.”
Lord Devene laughed heartily, for Edith’s description of the scene tickled his sense of humour.
“Why,” he said, “he ought to have married Tabitha,” “there would have been a pair of them. I expect they will get on capitally together, as—” and he checked himself, then added, “What an uncommonly queer fish he must be, though he wasn’t always such a model youth. Well, whether because of the Bible or in spite of it, Master Rupert has done very well. He is a man with a career before him; there is no doubt of that—a career, and in all probability,” and he sighed, “other things, for no one can do without sleep for ever.”
She nodded her head again, but said nothing, seeing that there was more to come.
“Is this military saint married by any chance?” he asked.
“Oh, no! certainly not.”
“Or engaged?”
“Not in the least, I imagine. I should say that he has scarcely spoken to a woman for years. He seems so—so—”
“Is innocent the word you were looking for? Well, so much the better. Look here, Edith, you’ve got to marry him.”
She made a droll little face and answered: