He was clever to know when to trust. He had not the slightest fear that Eugenia would break her promise. So he cautioned Mrs. Cathcart to keep the little fool well within sight, and thus avoid danger of a chance meeting; to order the servants to refuse the sculptor admission if he ventured to call—and above all to be sure that Norgate had every opportunity of pressing his suit. After this he waited calmly, and did nothing more in the matter for six whole days.
Days during which Gerald Leigh chafed and fretted. He refused to doubt, but his heart grew heavy within him. He felt sure that Mrs. Cathcart’s visit boded no good. At last he could bear the suspense no longer. He called and asked for Eugenia. She was out. He called again—the same result. He went back to his studio and tried to conquer his growing uneasiness by hard work. One morning a gentleman called and introduced himself as James Herbert.
Gerald received him courteously. Herbert was suave, smiling and bland. He spoke of the interest he felt in the young sculptor for his father, Mr. Herbert’s sake. He admired some embryo designs, and wished and prophesied all success. Then, as Gerald began to hope that Eugenia’s brother might some day be his friend, he turned upon him and tore him to pieces.
“But, after all, Mr. Leigh, my great object in calling concerns my sister.”
Gerald grew very pale.
“She is a good girl, but weak. She has confessed to me that some sort of romantic nonsense had passed between you.”
“She has vowed to be my wife—no more, no less.”
His impetuosity seemed to amuse Herbert. “I am afraid such a thing is an impossibility,” he said serenely. “I shall not insult you by telling you she is all but penniless—geniuses, I know, never think of money—but I fear I must pain you by saying she repents of her hasty words.”
“That,” said Gerald slowly, yet fiercely, “is a lie.”
“My good sir, I cannot allow you to use such words. My temper is fair, but it has its limits.”