“If you knew me better, Mr. Craig, you would never suspect me of being afraid in anything that concerns the dear old governor. He idolizes me. If I say I’m going to Japan to-morrow he would never throw an obstacle in my way. Though a bear to others, he’s the dearest and best man in the world to me. That is why I have dared to undertake this task—through love for him.”
He wonders what task, but is not rude enough to ask. They roll between elegant mansions on Dearborn Avenue, and will soon be at their destination.
“Then you will alight in front of your door?”
“If you please, sir.”
No more is said, each being busy with thoughts that come unbidden into the mind. The driver has been coached and knows where to turn. At length the carriage stops. Dorothy looks out.
“It is home,” she says quietly.
Immediately the gentlemen are out to assist the ladies. One glance Craig gives at the huge pile of masonry and he has impressed the location of the princely mansion on his mind. It rather staggers him to think of this young girl, the sole heiress to great wealth, having passed through such singular adventures on this night. Craig is a Canadian, and, in a measure, accustomed to English ways. He wonders what his people would think of such an escapade, and smiles at the recollection of his austere aunt, so proud of her blue blood and of an unblemished name. It is the destiny of Canadians to draw nearer the American, while separating from the English, and the younger generation feel this more and more in the drift of commerce.
So Aleck, while brought up with a keen perception of the proprieties, can even pardon such a breach of the same under certain circumstances. Somehow he lays much stress on the personal declaration that her motives are governed by sacred purposes. Not that he can understand it—he does not attempt to do so—but there is a charm in Dorothy’s presence that makes him believe whatever she may say.
’Twas ever thus. A man in love is fain to pin his faith on the goodness of the ethereal being who has charmed him. All others may be false, deceptive, and born flirts, but this one bright, particular star is an exception. That is the subtle glamour love dusts in the eyes of his votaries. Whom the little god would secure in his net, he first makes blind.
“I cannot thank you for your kindness, Mr. Craig. Perhaps by to-morrow night I shall be in a better condition to talk upon this subject. I feel that an explanation is due you,” she says, giving him her hand.