Harding of Allenwood Part 22

"It is not your fault that I wouldn't take a hint," he answered quietly.

"But you are very young; and I knew that I would never change."

"You thought I might?"

"I hoped so. I was afraid that after the romantic admiration you have had from the boys, you might find me too matter-of-fact and staid. But there was a chance that you might get used to that, and I made up my mind to be patient."

"I'm sorry, for your sake, that you waited."

Her glance was gently regretful, and he read decision in it, but he was a determined man.

"It seems I haven't waited long enough," he returned with a faint smile.

"But while you will grow more attractive for a long time yet, I have reached my prime, and inheriting the English property rather forced my hand. After all, our life here is bare and monotonous--you would have a wider circle and more scope in the Old Country."

Beatrice liked his terseness and in some ways she liked and respected him. Moreover she was offered a beautiful English country house, a position of some influence, and friends of taste and rank.

"You were very considerate," she said. "But I'm afraid what you wish is impossible."

"Wait!" he begged. "I haven't said much about myself, but I believe I appreciate you better than any of the boys is capable of doing; I could carry your wishes further and take more care of you." He paused with a grave smile. "I'm not a romantic person, but I think I'm trustworthy.

Then, it would please your father."

"Ah! You have told him?"

"Yes; and he was good enough to express his full approval."

Beatrice's face was disturbed, but she answered frankly:

"Though I know you won't take an unfair advantage of his consent, I wish you hadn't gone to him. It may make things more difficult for me. And now, please understand that I cannot marry you."

Brand's lips came together in a straight line. He did not have a pleasant look; but his voice was unusually suave when he answered:

"It looks as if I must face my disappointment. I'll do nothing that might embarra.s.s you. All the same, I warn you that I shall not despair."

"You must not think of me," Beatrice said firmly. "I'm very sorry, but I want to save you trouble."

He quietly picked up his horse's bridle.

"You are going home? May I walk with you as far as the trail-forks?"

Beatrice could not refuse this, and he talked pleasantly about Allenwood matters until he left her. She went on alone in a thoughtful mood. She wished that Brand had not made his offer, because she knew that her refusal had been a blow, and she did not like to think that she had wounded him. Moreover, his quiet persistence might still prove troublesome. Perhaps it was unfortunate that she could not return his affection; for Brand had many good qualities, and her father approved of him. Then, with a thrill of perplexing emotion, she thought of Harding.

In some respects, he was too practical and matter-of-fact; but she knew that his character had another side. While he worked and planned, he had dreams of a splendid future which she thought would be realized. He was a visionary as well as a man of affairs; virile, daring, and beneath the surface generous and tender. It was curious how she knew so much about him, yet she felt that she was right.

Harding was, however, barred out, so to speak; divided from her by conventions and traditions that could not be broken, unless, indeed, love warranted the sacrifice. But she would not admit that she loved him. He loved her, she knew; but that was not enough. It was all complicated; nothing seemed right. She no longer noticed the sunshine or the bracing freshness of the wind as she moved on across the plain with downcast eyes.

Nerving herself for the encounter, she told her father that evening, and he sat silent for a few moments, looking hard at her while she stood by his writing table with an embarra.s.sed air.

"It seems to me you are very hard to please," he said.

"Perhaps I am," she answered. "But I don't like him enough."

"I suppose that's an adequate reason, but I regret it keenly. It would have been a relief to know your future was secure, as it would have been with Brand."

Beatrice was touched. He had not taken the line she expected, and she saw that he was anxious.

"Perhaps it's better that you should learn the truth," he went on. "For the last few years my affairs have not gone well. Gerald's extravagance has been a heavy drain; Lance is young and rash; and I feel now that the prosperity of Allenwood is threatened. The American made me realize that. In fact, the fellow has brought us trouble ever since he came."

"Perhaps it might be wise to take a few of the precautions he recommended," Beatrice suggested, eager to lead him away from the subject of Brand.

Mowbray's eyes flashed with anger.

"No! If we are to be ruined, I hope we'll meet our fate like gentlemen--and it may not come to that. We have struggled through critical periods before, and can make a good fight yet without using detestable means."

Beatrice was troubled. She admired her father's pride and courage, but she had an uncomfortable suspicion that he was leading a forlorn hope.

Unflinching bravery was not the only thing needful: one could not face long odds with obsolete weapons.

"But they are not all detestable," she urged. "You could choose the best--or, if you like, the least offensive."

"Compromise is dangerously easy; when you begin, you are apt to go all the way. I didn't expect this from you. I believed my own family staunch, and I must say it's a shock to find the tradesman's spirit in my children. Even Lance shows the taint. He actually is planning to sell his riding horses and buy some machine that will save a hired man's wages!"

Beatrice smiled.

"Perhaps that is better than following Gerald's example. But you mustn't be unjust. You know that none of us would think of thwarting you."

She crossed over to the back of his chair and put her arms around him.

"I'm sorry you are disappointed about Mr. Brand," she said softly; "but I know you'll forgive me."

Before he could answer, she had slipped out of the room. She went at once to find her mother.

"Your father would never force you to marry a man you do not care for,"

Mrs. Mowbray a.s.sured her. "So far as that goes, you have nothing to fear."

"What do you mean?" Beatrice asked in alarm.

Her mother's eyes were anxious, and there was a warning in the look she gave the girl.

"My dear, you would not find him compliant if you wished to marry a man he did not approve of."

Beatrice stooped to flick an imaginary piece of lint off of her skirt.

She did not want her mother to see her face just then.

"After all," she answered, far more confidently than she felt, "that may never happen."

CHAPTER XIII

THE TRAITOR