Doubt of a prosaic nature was swift to follow. He loved her and must ask her to marry him. Yet, how could he ask her? He had not a penny in the world save what she had given him as her paid employee. How could he ask her to wed and coolly propose to live on her income? Lionel made short work of that. "I know," he said to himself, thinking swiftly but with honest logic, "that I am not mercenary. I would marry her in rags if she'd have me. As she happens to have money, so much the better. If by good luck she loves or learns to love me, she will not think me mercenary. Why should a pair of lovers wait when the only obstacle is a convention?—a convention good enough in itself (a proper discouragement of the ordinary place-hunter and hypocrite)—but a convention none the less. The exception shall prove the rule, for neither she nor I could be accused of conventionality."
He laughed aloud. Still, there was a kind of discomfort in the laugh, for the conventions of a thousand years or more can not be laughed away in a moment, be the iconoclast never so hardy. In spite of his honesty and brave words, Lionel, in the dim recesses of consciousness, knew that he wished he could have said, "My dear, I love you and can afford to pay for a home!" He knew that from the idealist's standpoint he was right, but the purest cups of nectar may reveal an acid in the lees. Still, he drank his nectar and was very glad.
Presently his face grew graver. "I must wait though," he reflected. "One can't propose the moment one hears she is a widow—too indecent. Besides, she may not love me.... I must give her time.... At least, though, I'll go with her to Constantinople. If she won't think of me as a husband or lover, by jove! I'll be her dragoman! She mustn't go there alone.... And now, let's break the news to Winifred."
He found Miss Arkwright in the library and told her of her sister's intention to come down to The Quiet House. To his disgust she began to make difficulties.
"You know, Mr. Mortimer, that we do not agree on her choice of a career——"
"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "I know all that. But this is a serious business. She is going to Turkey in a day or two, and wishes to see me before leaving. Surely——"
"She does me the honor of suspecting me of conspiracy," returned Miss Arkwright slowly, but with a resentful gleam. "I have told you that she is mistaken. Why should a conspirator lend her hospitality?"
"She acknowledges her error," said Lionel. "You must forgive much to a woman who has suffered so cruelly as she."
"I will not," said Winifred deliberately. "I have not said much to you on the subject, but now I will not conceal from you that I have been deeply wounded."
"Are you not great enough to forgive?" he urged, fair play telling him that she had a right to feel indignation—if she were innocent! He tried in vain to find a melting in her eye.