It was a somewhat unfortunate question, since it afforded an opening for two different answers, and Jimmy, who fancied she wished to learn why the fact that he could not go should grieve him, lost his head.
"Why?" he said. "Surely that can't be necessary. I think there is only one thing that could have stopped my going. If it hadn't been for that, I would have walked bare-foot across the Province to join the ship."
Anthea looked up, and met his eyes steadily. It was clear that she understood him, but there was no reproof in her gaze, and for a moment the man felt the sudden passion seize and almost shake the self-restraint from him. The girl was very alluring, and just then her pride had gone, while it was vaguely borne in on him that he had but to ask, or rather take her masterfully. Perhaps he was right, for there are moments when wealth and station do not seem to count, and an eager word or two, or a sudden compelling seizure of the white hand that hung so close beside him, might have been all that was needed. He looked at her with gleaming eyes, while a little quiver ran through him. Still, he remembered suddenly whose daughter she was, and the bitter grievance he had against her father. The opposition Merril would certainly offer and the stigma others might cast upon him if he wrested a promise from her then, also counted for something; and though neither of them made any sign, both knew when she spoke again that the moment had passed.
"That," she said, "was not what I meant. Why is it impossible for you to go?"
Jimmy was himself again, for her voice and look had swiftly changed. "I think it is only your due that I should tell you, since I know why Burnell put the offer before me. Well, I was glad to get the Shasta, and it would hardly be the thing to leave her now. Jordan and the others put money they could very hardly spare into the venture—and when they did it, they had confidence in me."
"Ah!" said Anthea, and stood silent for a moment or two. Then she smiled at him gravely. "Perhaps you are right—and, at least, one could fancy that Jordan and the others were warranted."
Jimmy, whose face once more grew a trifle flushed, raised a hand in protest. "I feel I have to thank you for sending Burnell to me. It must have seemed very ungrateful that I didn't close with him; but, after all, that is only part of what I mean. You see——"
The girl looked at him, still with the curious little smile. "You fancied I should feel hurt because you could not take a favor of that kind from me? Well, perhaps I did, but, as you have said, you couldn't help it—and I don't think it matters, after all."
Her voice was quietly even, and there was certainly no suggestion in it that she resented what he had done; but Jimmy knew that he was now expected to put on his reserve again, and he hastened to explain in conventional fashion that the way she might regard the matter was really a question of interest to him. Then Anthea looked at him, and they both laughed as they turned away, which, as it happened, very nearly led to Jimmy's flinging prudence aside again, and he felt relieved when he saw Austerly and his daughter approaching them. Before the latter two joined them, Anthea, however, once more turned to her companion.
"There is still something I wish to say, and perhaps I should have mentioned it earlier; but in such cases one shrinks from causing pain," she said. "I should like you to believe that I was very sorry when I heard—about your father."