It was little wonder that this straightforward letter, direct from the simple, innocent, girlish heart of the writer, should touch the three masculine hearts most profoundly.
Even John Dinsmore could not help the smile of amusement that came to his lips with the hearing of the first sentence, broadening into a hearty laugh at the conclusion.
“A little rough diamond!” commented Ballou, in a low voice.
“A treasure which almost any man would be proud to win,” added Jerry Gaines.
Then, suddenly, he laid his hand on his friend’s arm, saying:
“Why don’t you take a run down to Louisiana, and look over the ground, and the little maid as well, and then you will be better able to judge whether or not you can afford to throw away the splendid offering which the gods have flung in your way.”
John shook his head.
“I shall never marry,” he reiterated, “why, then, should I bother about the inheritance which is based upon that contingency? And furthermore, I would be inhuman to take advantage of such a child as this letter shows the girl to be, by tying her to so bitter a fate as being wedded to a man whose only object in marrying her was to secure a fortune. My friends, I am made of different material from that. Of all classes of men, I most despise a fortune hunter—a trader on a woman’s heart! There is something sacrilegious, horrible to me, in the thought.”
“There will not be the least bit of harm in taking a trip down there, at least,” urged Jerry Gaines. “That will not necessarily oblige you to marry against your desire, I’m sure.”
Hazard Ballou heartily coincided in this opinion, and between them they were so persistent that he should pursue this course that at last, for the sake of peace, John Dinsmore promised to take the trip, especially as his doctor had suggested that when he was able to leave Newport he should take a trip South, to some mild climate, where his recuperation would be complete.