"It is perfectly certain," said Carrissima, "that unless she marries somebody or other she will find herself without any money to live upon."

Although Carrissima spoke after prolonged reflection, and considered that the peculiar circ.u.mstances of the case justified the means she was employing, she could not feel very pleased with herself. She disliked anything underhanded; but, then, she disliked the prospect of Bridget's becoming Mrs. Faversham still more. Instead, however, of causing Colonel Faversham to hold his hand, Carrissima merely succeeded in egging him on. Rising excitedly from his chair he stood glaring at her for a few moments, as if he were going to break into a torrent of abuse; but turning abruptly away he left the room, slamming the door behind him so that the house shook. Making his way down-stairs he sat up late in the smoking-room, and when at last he went to bed, found it impossible to sleep.

During the small hours it seemed almost as though Carrissima's hint might prove of some avail. For the first time he began to hesitate concerning the future. In an exceptionally sane interval he came near to agreement with his daughter. Her remark about Bridget's means had been, in fact, a revelation. Not that he cared whether she possessed any money or not, but the absence of it might be a deplorable temptation.

Could it be possible that she had been deliberately awaiting Mark's return, postponing her answer to the older man until she convinced herself there was not a chance of securing the younger? An infuriating suspicion, but still not capable of causing Colonel Faversham's withdrawal. On the contrary, as he shaved the following morning, cutting his chin rather badly, he told himself that if only Bridget would consent to marry him, every other consideration might go to limbo!

By eleven o'clock he was waiting in the sitting-room at Number 5, Golfney Place. Until her appearance he walked restlessly from the fireplace to the farthest window, stopping to look at the uninviting oleographs on the wall, inspecting the row of David Rosser's novels which filled the hanging shelf.

Colonel Faversham was in an unstable mood this morning. Why couldn't Bridget come? She must know by this time that he detested waiting!

Every other minute he glanced at the door, and at last when she entered breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"What a very early bird!" she cried, coming towards him in her graceful, unhurried way.

"I want to catch the---- No, no," he said, "that won't do! You didn't tell me you had seen Mark Driver!" he added, holding her hand.

"Didn't I?" was the casual answer. "But why should I? You surely don't imagine for a moment I tell you everything! How deeply astonished you would be! What an amusing disillusionment!"

"Why should it be?" he demanded. "What have you to be ashamed of?"

"Ever so much," said Bridget. "So many men would like to shut us up in harems, wouldn't they?"

"It depends on the woman," returned the colonel.

"I a.s.sure you it would never answer in my case," she exclaimed.

"Neither bolts nor bars would keep me in."

"My dear," he said, "you drive me half out of my mind. You give me no peace."

"Oh, you poor thing!" she murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Say you will be my wife and have done with it," he urged.

"Now, supposing--only supposing that I were foolish enough----"

"You will," he cried, and doubtless he looked a little ridiculous as he went down on one knee. The joint, too, was stiffer than usual this morning.

"What do you imagine," she suggested, "that Carrissima would say--and your son!"

At this alarming reminder Colonel Faversham made an attempt to rise, but to his annoyance a cry of pain escaped. Unable for the moment to straighten his knee, he remained at Bridget's feet, conscious of the anti-climax.

"Let me help you," she said, sympathetically offering her hand.

"Good heavens!" he cried; "why do you imagine I require help! I am quite able to help myself. I never depend on other people. Give me independence," he added, standing upright though the effort made him wince.

"Yet you ask me to sacrifice mine!" said Bridget. "But what would Mr.

Lawrence Faversham have to say?"

"Upon my soul I can't imagine," was the answer.

"I believe you are thoroughly afraid of him and Carrissima. Well, so am I," she admitted.

Colonel Faversham had never held Lawrence in greater awe than at this moment when he believed that happiness lay within his grasp. He perceived that Carrissima the previous evening must have been attempting to influence him, and consequently that she already suspected his intentions. Now Colonel Faversham had often turned the matter over in his mind, with the result that he conceived a plan which, if it could only be carried successfully out, might obviate everything unpleasant.

"Lawrence," he said, "is a good fellow. A little too good, perhaps. I have never pretended to be an anchorite. I've too much warm blood still in my veins. Come to that, I'm to all intents and purposes a younger man than my son. I have the greatest respect for Lawrence, but he seems to have been born old."

"You can't say that of Carrissima!"

"No, no, a dear girl," he replied. "But a little sarcastic at times.

I detest sarcasm. I won't allow it. But no man can control a woman's face. I can see Carrissima's smile," he added, taking out his handkerchief and mopping his forehead.

"How ridiculous," said Bridget, "to make yourself so uncomfortable on my account."

"Let him laugh who wins!" cried Colonel Faversham. "If they think I'm a fool--well, I don't want to be wise. Of course, there's one way----"

"What is that?" asked Bridget.

"I don't know whether you would put up with it," said the colonel.

"Why," he suggested with eager eyes on her face, "why in the world shouldn't we keep it to ourselves?"

"How would it be possible?" she said, with a thoughtful expression.

"Trust me for that," was the answer. "There are few things I can't do when I make up my mind. Admit the principle, and everything else is easy! Keep it dark, you know. In the first place you've got to promise to be my wife. We don't breathe a word to any living being.

Then one fine morning we go out and get the knot tied: at a registry office, a church, anywhere you like."

"I shouldn't feel that I was properly married," said Bridget, "unless I went to church."

"Then you will!" urged Colonel Faversham, half beside himself with satisfaction.

"Please let me hear the whole scheme," she insisted.

"Don't you see," he explained, "you and I--my dear little wife--would be off somewhere abroad. Anywhere you choose!"

"Italy," said Bridget. "We would travel through to Milan, then on to Rome, Naples, Capri--Capri would be delightful."

"My darling!"

"But," she continued, "your plan is quite out of the question. I hate anything resembling secrecy. Surely you don't imagine that if I married you I shouldn't want every one to know."

"Why, naturally," said the colonel. "We should send Carrissima a telegram from Paris. The point is that she wouldn't know what had happened until we were out of reach. By the time we got back to Grandison Square she would have learnt to take a sensible view of the accomplished fact. So would Lawrence."

"Oh dear, you sound like a child who is bent on doing something he ought to be ashamed of!"

"It's true you make me feel like a boy again," he admitted. "Not that I have ever felt anything you could call old or even middle-aged. It will be the proudest day of my life if you consent," he added, and then Bridget broke into a laugh. She threw back her head as if she were putting away every misgiving, and Colonel Faversham drew near with the intention to take her in his arms. Her demeanour suddenly stiffened, however. In a condescending way she graciously permitted him to press his lips to her cheek; nor was this unexpected reserve the only drawback to his new happiness.

In his impetuosity he called her attention to the advantage of a quiet wedding, since there would be no absurd preparations to cause delay.

As they had only to please themselves, they might just as well get married forthwith . . . say next week or the week after. Bridget, however, quite good-humouredly refused to entertain any suggestion of the kind, protesting that she had done enough for one morning. With these mitigations, Colonel Faversham's glee appeared fatuous. Always disposed to boast of his capacity to vie with men a quarter of a century younger than himself, he had never, surely, done so well as now! He went to Donaldson's for a diamond ring, which was put on Bridget's finger the same afternoon, although she declared it must be taken off again the moment he had gone. The secret must be thoroughly kept!