Could this be the mysterious terror who had frightened Tony out of his wits? This gentle, smiling, brown-faced little man lying back there so placidly in his chair with his eyes half closed? It was impossible on the face of it. Absurd! And perhaps, after all, who knew whether it wouldn’t be better to wait? If Morelli really felt like that about it and was prepared eventually to encourage the idea; and then after all Janet might be introduced gradually to the family. They would see, even Sir Richard must see at last, what a really fine girl she was, fine in every way. He saw her as she had stood up to meet him as he stepped across the lawn, slim, straight, her throat rising like a white stem of some splendid flower, her clear dark eyes pools of light.
Oh! they must see if you gave them time. And, after all, this was rather carrying the matter with a high hand, this eloping and the rest!
The garden had a soothing, restful effect upon him, so that he began to be sleepy. The high red walls rose about him on every side, the great tree flung its shadow like a cloud across, and the pleasant little man smiled at him with gentle eyes.
“Oh yes, of course, they are very young.”
“And then there’s another thing,” went on Morelli. “I don’t know, of course, but I should say that young Gale’s parents have something else in view for him in the way of marriage. They’re not likely to take some one of whom they really know nothing at all. . . . They’ll want, naturally enough, I admit, something more.” He paused for a moment, then he smiled. “But perhaps you could tell me,” he said.
Maradick had again the sensation that the man knew perfectly well about the whole affair, about the Gales and Alice and Tony, and even perhaps about himself. He also felt that whatever he could say would be of no use at all; that Morelli was merely playing with him, as a cat plays with a mouse.
Meanwhile he had nothing to say.
“Well, you see,” he began awkwardly, “as a matter of fact, they haven’t had the opportunity—the chance, so to speak, of knowing—of meeting Miss Morelli yet. When they do——”
“They’ve been here,” broke in Morelli quietly, “some weeks now. Lady Gale could have called, I suppose, if she had been interested. But I gather that Gale hasn’t told her; hasn’t, indeed, told any of them. You see,” he added almost apologetically, “she is my only child; she has no mother; and I must, in a way, see to these things.”
Maradick agreed. There was really nothing to be said. It was perfectly true that the Gales didn’t want Janet, wouldn’t, in fact, hear of her. The whole affair seemed to lose a great deal of its immediate urgency in this quiet and restful place, and the fact that Morelli was himself so quiet and restful was another motive for waiting. The girl was in no danger; and, strangely enough, Maradick seemed to have lost for the first time since he had known Morelli the sense of uneasy distrust that he had had for the man; he was even rather ashamed of himself for having had it at all.