XIV
Faunce hurried to Diane at once with his tidings. As he approached the house, he let his eyes rest on it with almost a feeling of ownership, not unpardonable in a man who was soon to be united to the only child of the owner. It might be said that after that he, too, would have a claim upon it.
The house was old; it had been in the Herford family for two hundred years. Looking at it, Faunce could distinguish the older portions, the slant of the wide gables from the high ridge-pole, the small, diamond-paned windows, and the stoop, which suggested a Dutch origin. One of the ancient chimneys still towered high between the main building and the sprawling extension; but modern taste and increased family fortunes had added a bay window or two, and a wide Southern veranda had increased the dignity and importance of Judge Herford’s “mansion,” as it was called among the townspeople when they remembered to drop the more familiar synonym—“the old Herford house on Broad Street.”
Faunce liked it He liked its air of dignity behind trim hedgerows, its embowered vines, and the wide-spread branches of the elm before the door. He went up the path with the feeling that here, at last, there were peace and security for him.
He found Diane in the library, bending over some sewing, which she put away as he entered. She laughed softly as he bent to kiss her.
“You mustn’t come so often,” she chided, “if you want me to be ready two months from now!”
He held her, looking down into her eyes.
“I want it sooner! Diane, the ship is ready. Can’t we be married in two weeks?”
She did not reply. Instead, her eyes sank under his, and he felt a quiver run through her. He thought of Overton again, with a pang of jealousy, and tightened his hold.
“Diane, you’ll say yes? I must go, but I can’t go without you. You—you’re not going to refuse?” he pleaded urgently, clasping her with one arm, while with his other hand he lifted one of hers and pressed it fervently against his cheek.