In love. He smiled to himself at the thought. He had read a lot about that passion which sometimes destroys a man’s life, and sometimes blesses it, but which, when it is strong and all-enduring, has a very great effect either for good or for evil.
Lieutenant Reid, as he luxuriously stretched himself in bed, thought it an agreeable feeling, and that those who talk about it exaggerate its importance a good deal. Of course he had had his fancies before now. He had liked to flirt like other men, but never, never before had he thought of any one as he thought of Florence. She was all that his fancy could desire—
A creature not too bright and good For human nature’s daily food.
For daily pleasures, simple wiles.
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
He was quite delighted with himself for remembering Wordsworth’s ideal of the perfect woman, and said to himself that he must really be in love. He showed symptoms of the complaint that morning by not taking quite such a large breakfast as usual, and also by being strangely silent while Major Reid chatted on the invariable subjects which now interested him—those local matters which he as a magistrate of the peace was engaged in, viz the poachers in the neighbourhood, the state of the autumn crops, the distress amongst the poor, his own extremely light purse.
His remarks with regard to his purse did rouse Michael Reid’s attention. There was not the slightest doubt that he would have to speak to his father about that five hundred pounds which he owed. It must be met somehow, and that before very long. He owed it to one man in particular, a money-lender, who had no pity and no idea of allowing the debt to lie over beyond the day when it was due. Exactly five hundred pounds would be expected to be paid to him in a month’s time, therefore before that date he must be properly engaged to his darling Florence. He would then be absolutely a free man. Five hundred pounds was such a trifle. No young man in his position could exist in the Army without getting into debt. Florence need never know about it. His father would pay it gladly when once he knew that his son was securing over a thousand a year. Florence’s income would probably be fifteen hundred a year at the least. If that was the case, he would pay his father back with interest during the first year of their marriage; and she, his darling Florence, need know nothing at all about it. It was not likely that a sharp old card, as he designated Mr Timmins, would allow Lieutenant Reid the full control of Florence’s fortune. But her income—dear innocent child!—she would only too gladly put it into his hands to use as he thought best. Her tastes, sweet girl, were quite simple. No; he must not lose his chance—not that there was any special hurry, but still, before she went to London he must secure her. He was thinking of her, therefore, of her fortune, of that dreadful debt which was still, however, quite a month off as he walked down the High Street and suddenly met the pretty, radiant creature in her becoming sealskin cap and jacket, and muff to match.
She was all in brown to-day, for her dress was made of some brown stuff too, and her boots were brown, and very small and pretty. He liked a woman to have pretty feet, and beyond doubt Florence had. Altogether, she was, as he expressed it, admirably turned out. She was a charming young creature. His heart beat with the intoxication of first love as he drew close to her side. He took off his hat and came up to her eagerly.
“This is luck!” he said.
She coloured. She was really interested in him. A man who could care for a girl who was as poor as a church mouse must be worth something, and she had never before in her young experience met any young man—that is, on terms of equality. Major Reid’s son had been indifferent to her as a boy, but as a man he was quite agreeable and—yes—very good-looking. So she, too, stopped, and expressed pleasure in her dancing brown eyes (yes, they were brown to-day; he thought, after all, he liked them when they were brown best) and said—