Looking a little further, he read that Lawrence was going to Europe.
“What for, nobody knows,” wrote Mr. Thornton. “He will not listen to reason or anything else, and I suppose he will sail in a few days. I did not imagine he loved your Mildred so much, and sometimes I have regretted my interference, but it is too late now, I daresay.”
This last was thrown out as a bait, at which Mr. Thornton hoped the Judge might catch. The fact that Mildred was an heiress had produced a slight change in his opinion of her, and he would not now greatly object to receiving her as his daughter-in-law. But he was far too proud to say so,—he would rather the first concession should come from the Judge, who, while understanding perfectly the hint, swore he would not take it.
“If anybody comes round it’ll be himself,” he said. “I’ll teach him what’s what, and I won’t extend the time either. I’ll see Lawyer Monroe this very day, but first I’ll tell Gipsy that the boy is off for Europe. Ho, Gipsy!” he called, as he heard her in the hall, and in a moment Mildred was at his side.
She saw the letter in his hand, and hope whispered that it came from Lawrence. But the Judge soon undeceived her.
“Spitfire,” said he, “Bobum writes that Lawrence is going to Europe to get over his love-sickness. He sails in a few days. But what the deuce, girl, are you going to faint?”
And he wound his arm around her to prevent her falling to the floor.
The last hope was swept away, and while the Judge tried in vain to soothe her, asking what difference it made whether he were in Halifax or Canada, inasmuch as she had pledged herself not to marry him, she answered:
“None, none, and yet I guess I thought he’d come to see me, or write, or something. Oliver said he would, and the days are so dreary without him.”
The Judge glanced at the hidden drawer, feeling strongly tempted to give her the letters it contained, but his temper rose up in time to prevent it, and muttering to himself: “Hanged if I do,” he proceeded to tell her how by and by the days would not be so dreary, for she would forget Lawrence and find some one else to love, and then he added, suddenly brightening up, “there’ll be some fun in seeing me plague Bobum. The mortgages are due to-day, and the dog has written asking for more time, saying he’s a ruined man unless I give it to him. Let him be ruined then. I’d like to see him taken down a peg or two. Maybe then he’ll think you good enough for his boy. There, darling, sit on the lounge, while I hunt up the papers. I’m going up this very day to see my lawyer,” and he pushed her gently from him.