“I give my consent, Dick,” she said softly. The young man grasped the hand she offered.
“You are more than good,” he said. “You make me happier than I have words to express.”
“Well, come down and have lunch with us now. I shall have much, of course, to talk to you about afterwards. Yes, I allow the engagement, but the marriage need not take place for some time.”
“We can talk that over by and by, mother,” said Barbara. “Come, Dick; come to lunch. I am so hungry.”
They had just assembled in the dining-room when there came a ring at the front door, and a moment later Tarbot appeared. He entered the room hurriedly, shook hands with Mrs. Evershed, nodded to Pelham, and then approached Barbara’s side. When she saw him her face grew white. She looked round her eagerly; the servant had withdrawn. She held out both her hands then and clasped Tarbot’s.
“I must thank you here and now,” she said. “I do so with a full heart. I did not know it was in you. You are the most generous man in the world.”
A queer look came into Tarbot’s face. His eager eyes looked into the girl’s; they glittered with suppressed emotion. He tried to say something, but no words would come. Barbara’s girlish thanks unnerved him. Pelham was watching him intently. The next moment the little party were seated at the luncheon table.
Just as the servant was handing an entrée, Tarbot glanced at Mrs. Evershed and spoke quietly.
“This is very sad about Piers Pelham.”
“What about him?” asked Mrs. Evershed.