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The love of you is the cup of water, and the love of God is the well it is taken from.... You had better go now before anyone else comes in, but I want you to remember when you think of me that I bless and thank you, and am grateful to you. I have been grateful for years." She took his leaden hand in both of hers, and held it for a moment to her lips. Lord Lossiemouth's face was pinched and aged.
However, she grasped the situation, and after an imploring glance from Magdalen, grappled with all her might with the boot-and-shoe club. Magdalen hurriedly tore off the little red shawl and returned to the morning-room, and closed the door. It was a considerable effort to her to close it, and by doing so to invite a renewal of Lord Lossiemouth's offer. But it could not be left open.
Bessie was sitting alone there, staring in front of her, paralysed by Lord Lossiemouth's arrival, and indignant at the possibility that Magdalen might marry that "horrid old thing," who was not the least like the charming photograph of him in her sister's album.
He paused a moment to let his words sink in evidently Miss Bellairs had not heard. "Three pounds five and nine," he said. "It is wonderful," said Magdalen emphatically. "Quite wonderful. I never heard of a boot-and-shoe club which was not in debt. Have you?" And she turned to Lord Lossiemouth. But Lord Lossiemouth's temper was absent. He found the situation intolerable. He only answered, "Never."
A man got out and came towards him. The raw sunlight caught only his face and shoulders. He seemed to wade towards him waist deep through a grey sea. Lord Lossiemouth again! Lord Lossiemouth's heavy tired face showed sharp and white in the garish light. "I have been looking everywhere for you," he said, not ungently.
When Colonel Bellairs concocted that sentence he had felt, not without pride, that it covered the ground of his fifteen years' silence, and also showed that Lord Lossiemouth's wealth had nothing to do with his recall. For the letter was a recall. "Blundering old idiot," said Lord Lossiemouth, but he had become very red.
But he made his precarious position even less tenable by ignoring the fact that Lord Lossiemouth's fortunes had altered, by asserting that he had had it in his mind to write to this effect the previous Christmas but had not had time.
There was also a short, wavering, nondescript note with nothing in particular in it from the girl herself. The mother had evidently made her write. A very venomous expression settled on Lord Lossiemouth's heavy face. He suddenly took up a Bradshaw and looked out the trains for Lostford. Tard oublie qui bien aime.
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