“But!” repeated Stephen Glynn eloquently.
He who had missed the greatest of earthly gifts yet realised enough of its mystery to join in that eloquent protest. He smoked in silence for several moments, while his thoughts wandered backwards.
“She would have helped you through!”
The echo of those words rang in his ears; he heard again the musical tone of the soft Irish voice, saw again the sweet, deep glance. Strange that those words had in the very moment of utterance uprooted the conviction of years! Lying prisoner on his couch, he had been thankful, in a grim, embittered fashion which had belied the true meaning of the word, that love had not entered into his life. It would have been but another cross to bear, since no woman could be expected to be faithful to a maimed and querulous invalid. Now in a lightning flash he realised that there were women—this Irish Pixie, for example—whose love could triumphantly overcome such an ordeal. She would have “helped him through” and, supported and cheered by her influence, his recovery would doubtless have been far more speedy. He straightened himself, and said quickly—
“Miss O’Shaughnessy would make a charming wife. For Stanor’s sake I could not wish anything better than that she may be ready to fulfil her promise at the end of the two years.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” said Geoffrey gravely. “She will be ready. There’s more than a grain of obstinacy in Pixie’s nature—very amiable obstinacy, no doubt, but it may be just as mischievous on such occasions as the present. She has given her word and she’ll stick to it, even if she recognises that she has made a mistake. We may talk, but it will have no effect. Unless your nephew himself releases her, she will feel as much bound as if they had been married in Westminster Abbey. It’s the way she’s made—the most faithful little creature under the sun! It will be our duty to protect her against herself, by making the young fellow understand that for her sake, almost more than his own, he must be honest, and not allow a mistaken sense of honour to urge him to repeat his proposal if his heart is not in it. He could make Pixie his wife, but he could never make her happy. The most cruel fate that could happen to that little soul would be to be married to a man who did not love her absolutely!”
Stephen Glynn nodded, his lips pressed together in grim determination.
“He shall understand. If I know Stanor, there will be no difficulty, in persuading him. He is a good lad, but it is not in him to sacrifice himself. I have been so anxious to secure him an unclouded youth that he is hardly to be blamed for putting his own interests in the foreground.”
“It’s a fault that many of us suffer from in the early twenties,” said Geoffrey, lightly. He thought the conversation had lasted long enough, and was glad when the sound of the gong came as an interruption and he could escort his guest to the dining-room, where the two ladies were already waiting.
Luncheon was a cheerful meal despite the somewhat difficult position of the diners, and Stephen Glynn felt the pang of the lonely as he absorbed the atmosphere of love and sympathy. The beautiful hostess looked tired and worn, but her eyes brightened as she looked at her husband, and, in a quiet, unostentatious fashion, he watched incessantly over her comfort. It was easy to see that the trial through which this husband and wife had passed had but riveted the bond between them and brought them into closest sympathy, while the little sister comported herself with a brisk cheeriness which was as far as possible removed from the attitude of the proverbial damsel crossed in love. The time passed so pleasantly that the visitor was unfeignedly sorry when it was time to make his farewells.