Looking up at last, with a flush of excitement on his face, he exclaimed—
“Why, there must be gold enough there to make millionaires of every one of us!”
“Yes,” said Blanche, “I believe there is; at least Lan— Mr Evelin says so, and I have no doubt he knows.”
“Oh yes,” exclaimed Bob enthusiastically, “he knows. I believe he knows everything. And what a splendid fellow he is, isn’t he, Miss Lascelles?”
This last with a sly twinkle in his roguish eye.
Blanche appeared to think it unnecessary to comment upon or reply to this remark; at all events she remained silent. But the window-curtain somehow needed adjustment just at that moment, and the haste with which she rose to attend to this little matter—or something else—caused a most lovely pink flush to overspread her cheeks. Bob saw it; perhaps he knew exactly what caused it; but if he did he was too much of a gentleman to show that he had noticed it. So when Blanche had adjusted the curtain to her satisfaction he remarked with a heavy sigh—
“Oh dear! I wish I was well enough to be out and at work again. I long to have the handling of some of that gold.”
“You must have patience, Robert,” said Blanche. “The worst part of your illness is now over, and in due time you will no doubt be able to take your share of the work once more. But whether such is the case or not, you may rest satisfied that you will have your share of the gold. Whatever there may be, whether it be much or little, I know the gentlemen have decided that it shall be divided equally among us, even to little May.”
“I am sure it’s very kind of them,” said Bob with a touch of impatience in his tone; “but I want to be up and able to work at it—to gather it in and see it accumulate. I want to be a really rich man.”
“For shame, Robert,” said Blanche, with just the faintest feeling of disgust—the first she had ever experienced toward Bob. “If you talk like that I shall leave you. I am disappointed in you; I should never have suspected you of being mercenary.”