Blake was surprised at this, because his uncle understood their financial difficulties; but he said, "There's a fast boat next Sat.u.r.day. I think I'll go by her."

"Wait another week, to please me," Challoner urged him. "You have had a dull time since I've been ill, and now I'd like you to get about. I shall miss you badly, d.i.c.k."

Blake agreed. He felt that he ought to have sailed earlier, but the temptation to remain was strong. He now met Millicent every day, and it might be a very long time before he returned to England. He feared that he was laying up trouble for himself, but he recklessly determined to make the most of the present, and, in spite of his misgivings, the next eight or nine days brought him many delightful hours. Now she knew he was going, Millicent abandoned the reserve she had sometimes shown. She was sympathetic, interested in his plans, and, he thought, wonderfully charming. They were rapidly drawn closer together, and the more he learned of her character, the stronger his admiration grew. At times he imagined he noticed a tender shyness in her manner, and though it delighted him he afterwards took himself to task. He was not acting honourably; he had no right to win this girl's love, as he was trying to do, but there was the excuse that she knew his history and it had not made her cold to him.

In the meanwhile, Mrs. Keith, who had grown very fond of her companion and entirely approved of her, looked on with observant eyes and made opportunities for throwing the two together. One afternoon a day or two before Blake's departure she called Millicent into her room and asked her abruptly: "Have you ever thought about your future?"

"Not often since I have been with you," Millicent answered. "Before that it used to trouble me."

"Then I'm afraid you're imprudent. You have no relations you could look to for help, and while my health is pretty good I can't, of course, live for ever. I might leave you something, but it would not be much, because my property is earmarked for a particular purpose."

Millicent wondered where this led, but Mrs. Keith went on: "As you have found out, I'm a frank old woman and not afraid to say what I think.

Well, considering how attractive you are, there's a way out of the difficulty, and I believe it's the best one. You ought to marry; it's your true vocation."

"I'm not sure," said Millicent, blushing. "Besides it mightn't be possible. I owe everything to your generosity, but you have brought me into a station where I must stand comparison with girls who have more advantages."

"You mean they have more money? Well, it's not to be despised, but I've met men who didn't attach too much importance to it. They had the sense to see there were other things of greater value, and while I don't often flatter people, you're not poor in this respect. But if you liked a man who was far from rich, would you marry him?"

"It would depend," Millicent replied, while her colour deepened. "Why do you ask? I can't give you a general answer."

"Then give me a particular one; I want to know."

The girl was embarra.s.sed, but she had learned that her employer was not to be put off easily.

"I suppose his being poor wouldn't daunt me, if I loved him enough."

"Then we'll suppose something else. If he had done something to be ashamed of?"

Millicent looked up with a flash in her eyes. "People are so ready to believe the worst. He did nothing that he need blush for--that's impossible." Then she saw the trap into which her generous indignation had led her, but instead of looking down in confusion she boldly faced Mrs. Keith. "Yes," she added, "if he loved me, I would marry him in spite of what people are foolish enough to think."

"And you would not regret it." Mrs. Keith laid her hand on the girl's arm with a caressing touch. "My dear, if you value your happiness, you will tell him so. Remember that he is going away in a day or two."

"How can I tell him?" Millicent cried with burning face. "I only--I mean you tricked me into telling you."

"It shouldn't be difficult to give him a tactful hint, and that wouldn't be a remarkably unusual course," Mrs. Keith rejoined with amus.e.m.e.nt. "The idea that a proposal comes quite spontaneously is to some extent a convention nowadays. I don't suppose you need reminding that we dine at Sandymere to-morrow."

Millicent made no reply, and as she seemed rather overwhelmed by her employer's frankness, the latter took pity on her.

"You might ask Foster for the review he promised me, but you can send it up instead of coming back," she said, and added as Millicent turned away: "Think over what I told you."

The recommendation was superfluous, because Millicent thought of nothing else. She knew Blake was her lover and believed she understood why he had not declared himself. Now he might go away without speaking if she let him. Mrs. Keith's blunt candour left her no excuse for shirking the truth; she loved the man, but it was hateful to feel that she must make the first advances and reveal her tenderness for him.

She said she could not do so and yet vacillated, for the alternative was worse.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

HARDING STRIKES OIL

Next evening Millicent accompanied Mrs. Keith to Sandymere in a troubled mood. Dinner was a trying function, because she sat next to Foster, who talked in a humorous strain and expected her to appreciate his jokes. She found it hard to smile at the right moment and noticed that Blake was unusually quiet. It was his last evening in England.

When they went into the drawing-room Challoner engaged her in conversation for a time and she was afterwards asked to sing. An hour pa.s.sed before Blake had an opportunity of exchanging a word with her, and then Miss Challoner was sitting close by.

"They'll make you sing again if you stop here," he said softly.

She understood that he wanted her to himself and thrilled at something in his voice, but instead of complying she asked: "Don't you wish me to?"

"Yes, of course," he answered lamely and was silent for a few moments.

Then he resumed: "You're interested in Eastern bra.s.swork, I think?"

"I hardly know," said Millicent. "I haven't seen much of it."

She was vexed with herself for her prudish weakness. An opportunity that might never be repeated was offered her, and she could not muster the courage to seize it. Blake, however, did not seem daunted.

"You said you were delighted with the things my uncle showed you when you were last here and a friend has just sent him a fresh lot from Benares." He gave her an appealing look. "It struck me you might like to see them."

"Yes," said Millicent with forced calm; "I really think I would."

"Will you give me the key of the Indian collection?" Blake asked Challoner.

"Here it is," said the Colonel, who turned to Mrs. Keith. "That reminds me, you haven't seen my new treasures yet. Dryhurst has lately sent me some rather good things; among others there's a small Buddha, exquisitely carved. Shall we go and look at them?"

Mrs. Keith felt angry with him for a marplot, but she said: "Wouldn't it be better to wait until I'm here in the daylight? If I try to examine anything closely with these spectacles, they strain my eyes."

"I've had a new lamp placed in front of the case," Challoner persisted, and Mrs. Keith found it hard to forgive him for his obtuseness.

"Very well," she said in a resigned tone, and when Millicent and Blake had gone out walked slowly to the door with Challoner.

They were half way up the staircase which led rather sharply from the hall when she stopped and turned to her companion.

"It's obvious that you have recovered," she said.

"I certainly feel much better, but what prompted your remark?"

"These stairs. You don't seem to feel them, but if you expect me to run up and down, you'll have to make them shallower and less steep.

I've been up twice since I came; Hilda insisted on my seeing the new decorations in the west wing, and I must confess to a weakness in my knee."

Challoner gave her a sharp glance and then said, "I'm sorry. Mrs.

Foster mentioned something about your not walking much; I should have remembered."

"It's the weather; I find the damp troublesome. If you don't mind, I think we'll go down."

Challoner gave her his arm, and Millicent, standing in the picture gallery, noticed their return. She suspected that this was the result of some manoeuvre of Mrs. Keith's intended for her advantage, and tried to summon her resolution. The man she loved would sail next day, believing that his poverty and the stain he had not earned must stand between them, unless she could force herself to give him a hint to the contrary. This was the only sensible course, but she timidly shrank from it.

Blake unlocked a gla.s.s case and taking out two shelves laid them on a table. "There they are," he said with a rather nervous smile. "I've no doubt the things are interesting, and if our friends come up they can look at them. But it wasn't Benares bra.s.sware that brought me here."

"Was it not?" Millicent asked with a fluttering heart.