“Now, you’re mine,” he murmured, with a great sigh of relief, “and we’re engaged.”
She smiled and nodded, and came to his heart again of her own accord.
And not a word was said to anybody. It was all too precious and wonderful and beautiful. And yet she expected him to go away.
At the club, to-day everybody stared to see Ormsby and Dick Swinton meet as though nothing had happened overnight, and the news was soon buzzing around that Swinton was going, after all. Jack Lorrimer explained that Dick had at last procured the consent of his grandfather, without which it would have been impossible for him to go. Everybody wondered why they had not thought of that before, and laughed at the overnight business.
On his return to the rectory, Dick met his mother in the porch.
“Mother!” he cried, in a voice that was husky with emotion. “I’ve got to go. I’ve just given my name in to the colonel, and the money must be found somehow. Ormsby has dared to insinuate that I’m a coward. I—”
“It’s all right, Dick. You can have your outfit; I’ve got enough. I suppose five hundred dollars will cover it?”
“It’ll have to, if that’s all I can get, mother.”
“Out of grandfather’s two thousand?”