"I must not keep you any longer, my dear boy!" he said, with a fond,
proud look. "I must not forget I am keeping you from--her! She will be
missing you--wanting you. You have kept your secret well,
Stafford--though once or twice I have fancied, when I have seen you
together--but it was only a fancy!--Are you going to announce the
engagement tonight? It is rather a good opportunity, isn't it? It will
make the night memorable."
The music danced madly through Stafford's brain as his father waited,
looking at him smilingly. What should he say?
"Not to-night, sir!" he answered. "I should like to speak to Miss
Falconer first."
Sir Stephen nodded and smiled.
"I understand, my boy," he said. "This kind of thing is not done now as
it was in my time. We used to take the girl of our choice by the hand
and throw back our heads, and announce the fact that we have secured
the prize, with all the pride imaginable. But that's all altered now. I
suppose the new way is more delicate--more refined. At any rate, you
belong to the new age and have a right to follow its manners and
customs; so you shall say nothing to-night, unless you like. And, if I
am asked why I look so happy, so free from care, I must say that it is
because the great Railway Scheme is settled and that I have won all
along the line."
As he said the last words there came a knock at the door, and Murray
entered with an injured look.
"Mr. Griffenberg and Baron Wirsch, would like to see you, Sir Stephen,"
he said, significantly.
Sir Stephen sprang to the table almost with the alertness of a boy, and
caught up the papers lying on his desk.
"All right, Murray!" he cried. "Sorry I'm late! Been having a talk with
Mr. Stafford. Come on!"
With a nod, a smile, a tender look of love and gratitude to Stafford,
the brilliant adventurer, once more thrown by the buoyant wave upon the
shore of safety and success, went out to communicate that success to
his coadjutors.
Stafford sank into his father's chair, and with his hands thrust deep
in his pockets, and his chin upon his chest, tried to clear his brain,
to free his mind from all side issues, and to face the fact that he had
tacitly agreed, that by his silence he had consented to marry Maude
Falconer.
But, oh, how hard it was to think clearly, with the vision of that
girlish face floating before him! the exquisitely beautiful face with
its violet eyes now arched and merry, now soft and pleading, now tender
with the tenderness of a girl's first, true, divinely trusting love. He
was looking at the book-case before him, but a mist rose between it and
his eyes, and he saw the mountain-side and the darling of his heart
riding down it, the sunlight on her face, the soft tendrils of hair
blown rough by the wind, the red lips apart with a smile--the little
grave smile which he had kissed away into deeper, still sweeter
seriousness.