“I do not even know that the happy day will be at all,” he replied; “for Lily came upon us before I had half finished. She may refuse me yet.”
“It’s hardly probable,” answered Geraldine, helping him to another cup of tea. “When Miss Howell was last here I suspected her of being in love with some one, and foolishly fancied it might be young Hudson, who called on her so often. But I see my mistake. You did not finish your proposal, you say. You’ll write to her to-night, of course, and have the matter decided.”
“That is my intention,” returned Lawrence, beginning to feel a little uneasy at having suffered Geraldine to draw so much from him.
Still he did not suspect her real design, though he did wonder at her being so very cordial when she had always looked upon him as her brother-in-law elect. “As long as there is no help for it she means to make the best of it, I presume,” he thought, and wishing she might transfer some of her sense to Lilian, he went to his room to write the letter, which would tell Mildred Howell that the words he said to her that morning were in earnest.
Could Geraldine have secured the letter and destroyed it, she would unhesitatingly have done so, but Lawrence did not leave his room until it was completed, and when at last he went out, he carried it to the office, and thus placed it beyond her reach. But the wily woman had another plan, and going to Lilian, who had really made herself sick with weeping, she casually inquired what time Judge Howell usually received his Boston letters.
“At night if he sends to the office,” said Lilian, “and in the morning if he don’t.”
“He will send to-morrow night,” thought Geraldine, “for mademoiselle will be expecting a letter,” and as she just then heard Mr. Thornton entering his room, she stepped across the hall and knocked cautiously at his door.
Mr. Thornton was not in a very amicable mood that night. Business was dull,—money scarce,—debts were constantly coming in with no means of canceling them, and in the dreaded future he fancied he saw the word “Insolvent,” coupled with his own name. From this there was a way of escape. Lilian Veille had money, if she were Lawrence’s wife, Lawrence as his junior partner could use the money for the benefit of the firm. This was a strong reason why he was so anxious for a speedy marriage between the two, and was also one cause of his professed aversion to Mildred Howell. Having never seen Judge Howell and Mildred together, he did not know how strong was the love the old man bore the child of his adoption, and he did not believe he would be foolish enough to give her much of his hoarded wealth. Thornton must marry Lilian, and that soon, he was thinking to himself as he entered his room, for his son’s marriage was the burden of his thoughts, and having just heard of his return, he was wondering whether he had engaged himself to Lilian, or fooled with Mildred as he told him not to do, when Geraldine came to the door.
Thinking it was Lawrence who knocked, he bade him come in at once, but a frown flitted over his face when he saw that it was his niece.
“I supposed you were Lawrence,” he said. “I heard he was at home. What brought him so soon?”