"I have thought it better to show the document to my daughter, sir. She is the person most concerned. It is but fair that she should judge whether what is here said of you is likely to be true."
"The only part she might possibly believe is that about Miss Hurlstone. Well, it is a lie, Mr. Planter. She was the first pretty girl I saw in New York, and I flirted with her once or twice, as any fellow might. She was never anything to me, and from the moment I saw your daughter I never thought of any other girl. I have asked her to marry me, and she has refused. But I'm not discouraged. I'm still in hopes of getting her to alter her mind, and—and of getting your consent, Mr. Planter."
"Well, sir, I will be frank with you. I let Clare do pretty much as she likes, and I have no objection to you personally. You seem to me a straightforward sort of man, who are only a bit spoiled, I reckon, by the life you have led. I don't want my child to marry an Englishman, or any other sort of foreigner. She is the only thing I have got in the world, and I want her to settle right down here in America, near me and her mother, when she marries. There now, you have it plain. I like you better than the men who are fooling around here. But they don't amount to much. She would never have one of them. Our girls like amusing themselves; it don't mean anything. And if you come right along with us to Monterey, you must do it at your own risk, sir—as I told your aunt. You must not reproach Clare with having led you on, when she meant nothing. And she would never marry without my consent."
This was plain speaking, and it certainly was not encouraging. Mordaunt felt that to follow his aunt's suggestion, and precede the Planters to Monterey, was the only manly course, consistent with his resolve not to be deterred in his endeavor to win Clare Planter's affections. To continue to take part in the "braying chorus" could not be profitable, and would certainly not be dignified. Mrs. Frampton received the announcement that they were to leave San Francisco the following day with a satisfaction which she was at no pains to conceal.
That afternoon he had the courage to avoid joining the Planter party, on the plea that he must go to some shops with his aunt and sister. So, leaving the lower streets, where the chief traffic of the city is, they climbed steep ways where the Chinese and Japanese dwell in colonies, and visited tea-houses and joss-houses, and bought quaint toys and strange wares unknown to Liberty & Co. And afterwards, still toiling up, they reached the eminence generally called Nob Hill, crowned with structures that look like Genoese palaces, until one learns that what simulates marble is but painted wood. These residences of the wealthy merchants are all embowered in green. Flowers look out of every gate and doorway. As to the arum-lilies, they grow like weeds, thrusting their white, elongated faces through the fences of even the smallest houses; and wherever there is space to let them stretch their mighty plumes, palm-trees and yuccas stand between the windows and the dusty street.
The ladies returned to the hotel, pleased with their last ramble through the city, of which they had seen more that day than they had done during all their drives the previous week. But Mordaunt was silent and depressed. His self-confidence was shaken. Had he made any progress since they arrived at San Francisco, ten days ago? He could not feel that he had.
Clare Planter came into their room at dusk, apparently in high spirits. She looked unusually well in a white tea-gown, with some crimson roses on her bosom.
"So I hear you go to Monterey to-morrow. What a shame to steal a march upon us! And what a shame not to have passed the last day here with us, Mrs. Frampton!" she exclaimed. "But you must really come in this evening. We are going to dance. Two or three girls are coming, and I have been to get a pianist. Don't shake your head—I am sure, Sir Mordaunt, you can persuade your aunt and sister to come, if you like."
"Thank you," he stammered, growing hot and cold as he spoke. "It's awfully good of you—but—as for myself, I—I promised to go to the Bohemian Club to-night. Some fellows asked me to supper there—"
"Oh!" she interrupted, with her sweetest smile, "Ask the 'fellows' to come to us—bring them along with you. You can't refuse me—now can he, Mrs. Frampton?"