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He was coming to her with a steadfast, enduring love in his heart, he wanted her now more than ever before. There was no mention of Challis Wrandall, and but once was Sara's name used. There was nothing in the letter that could have betrayed their joint secret to the most acute outsider, and yet she would understand that he had wrung everything from Sara's lips. Her secret was his.
As he said, and rightly, he was as good a man as Madame Goudar was a woman. This was distinctly a good point in his character; no woman who gave her favours in exchange for presents received could hope to dupe him. Sara's maxims were diametrically opposed to his; she looked on her love as a bill of exchange.
They had been seated but a few moments, Morton gravely staring at the dragon-china with meekly folded hands, Molly tilted on the edge of her chair like a bird about to fly, and the baby on Sara's lap wide-eyed and inquiring, when Polly thought the quiet was growing oppressive, and broke out, "Pretty Poll! Pretty Poll! How d'ye do? Oh, you fools!"
If he had been asked what especially he conceived his own duty to be now, he would have said that it was not for him to hang back when she showed a coming spirit. But this was not all. He was a gamester; he was ambitious. "This is very odd," said he, reading Sara's note for the second time, "very odd. There's no harm in showing it to you, because there is nothing in it."
The inner drawing-room had heavy velvet hangings that closed over the archway; on cold evenings the curtains would be drawn rather closely; there would be a bright fire, and a single lamp lighted. Very often Uncle Brian would retire with his book or paper when Sara's valses wearied him or the room filled with young officers.
"There was no one to take care of me, and no money," she said. "I belong to nobody." "What did your father mean by losing his money?" said the gentleman, fretfully. The red in Sara's cheeks grew deeper, and she fixed her odd eyes on the yellow face. "He did not lose it himself," she said. "He had a friend he was fond of, and it was his friend, who took his money. I don't know how.
As the doctor bless the man! always says, there's good in everybody if so be you'll look for it. Only I'd as lief think that Mrs. Durward was somehow scared-like too almighty scared to be her natchral self, savin' now and again when she forgets." To Mrs. Selwyn, the breaking off of Sara's engagement, and the manner of it, signified very little.
I asked them to come in, and Sara told me that the landlady would not let their belongings out of the house before her father paid a debt of forty guineas, although a city merchant had assured her it should be settled in a week. The long and snort of it was that Sara's father had sent me a bill and begged me to discount it.
Come baby!" and, managing at length to coax him away, she took him to more cheerful surroundings, where he was soon quite as happy sucking a peppermint lozenge, and watching Johnnie with his toys, as if no father lay buried under the cruel, restless sea. Meanwhile, awed by Sara's intense grief, the women stood about, quite powerless, and gazed at her.
"Garth! Garth!" The name by which she had always known him sprang spontaneously from Sara's lips. Her voice was shaking, but her eyes, likes Herrick's, held a glory of quiet shining. "How could you, dear? What madness! What idiotic, glorious madness!" "I don't see how I could have done anything else," said Maurice simply.
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