Pansy flushed warmly, then grew pale again, and, after a moment’s hesitancy, said:
“I came from Louisville to this place with Mrs. Beach because I wished to work for myself. My father was dead, my mother had married again, and my stepfather was not kind to me. I prefer to remain in California alone, rather than to return to my own home.”
“She is a plucky little thing,” thought the colonel admiringly, and he answered, aloud:
“I don’t know but what you’re right, Miss Wilcox, and I admire your independence. I want you to promise one thing: You will let me be your friend? I shall remain in San Diego some time yet, and if you will permit me to call on you sometimes I shall be very glad.”
He did not mean to lose sight of her if he could help it, for he had a fancy that if Mrs. Beach had lived to see him again she would have commended her protégée to his care.
“Hang it all, if I were twenty years younger I’d marry her if she would have me,” he said to himself, when she had gone out, after giving her consent to his request and telling him where she should go to board. It was at a very simple, unpretentious place, for in San Diego, as in all of the rapidly growing towns of southern California, board and lodging were very high. It would take all of her salary to support her even in a simple fashion.
Colonel Falconer knew this well, and his heart ached for the brave, beautiful girl who had made a stronger impression on him than any woman he had ever met. When she bade him good-by that afternoon and went away with Mrs. Beach’s maid, who was also rendered homeless by the death of her mistress, he felt a strangely tender yearning to take the beautiful girl in his arms and kiss away the tears that he saw trembling on her long, curling lashes.
He retained the Chinese servants, and stayed on at the cottage during the summer, and in that time he managed to see a great deal of beautiful little Pansy, although he knew that it was unwise, for he soon found that his ardent admiration for the lovely girl was deepening into love.
If he had been younger he would have proposed to marry her; but it seemed to him that Pansy would only laugh at the idea of having such an old fellow for a husband.
He did not know how Pansy was touched by his kindness and friendship. She was very lonely, for the few acquaintances she had made during Mrs. Beach’s life did not trouble themselves about her now that she was poor and friendless. They were rich, fashionable people, too, who had no time, if they had had the inclination, to look after any one not in society. They were very gracious to Colonel Falconer, but that little typewriter girl to whom he was so attentive—that was altogether different. Some there were who hinted to him that it was a mistake on his part to show her so much kindness. It would spoil her for her humbler lot, awaken in her aspirations for higher things than she could reasonably expect.