As Miss Cameron descended the stairs, Sir Charles recognized for the first time that the young man was remarkably handsome, and he resented it. It hurt him, as did also the prodigal's youth and his assured bearing. He felt a sudden sinking fear, a weakening of all his vital forces, and he drew in his breath slowly and deeply. But no one noticed him; they were looking at the tall figure of the prodigal, standing with his hat at his hip and his head thrown back, holding the girl with his eyes.
Collier touched Sir Charles on the arm, and nodded his head towards the library. "Come," he whispered, "let us old people leave them together. They've a good deal to say." Sir Charles obeyed in silence, and crossing the library to the great oak chair, seated himself and leaned wearily on the table before him.
He picked up one of the goose quills and began separating it into little pieces. Mr. Collier was pacing up and down, biting excitedly on the end of his cigar. "Well, this has certainly been a great night," he said. "And it is all due to you, Sir Charles--all due to you. Yes, they have you to thank for it.""They? " said Sir Charles. He knew that it had to come. He wanted the man to strike quickly.
"They? Yes--Florence Cameron and Henry," Mr. Collier answered.
"Henry went away because she wouldn't marry him. She didn't care for him then, but afterwards she cared. Now they're reunited,--and so they're happy; and my wife is more than happy, and I won't have to bother any more; and it's all right, and all through you.""I am glad," said Sir Charles. There was a long pause, which the men, each deep in his own thoughts, did not notice.
"You will be leaving now, I suppose?" Sir Charles asked. He was looking down, examining the broken pen in his hand.
Mr. Collier stopped in his walk and considered. "Yes, I suppose they will want to get back," he said. "I shall be sorry myself.
And you? What will you do?"
Sir Charles started slightly. He had not yet thought what he would do. His eyes wandered over the neglected work, which had accumulated on the desk before him. Only an hour before he had thought of it as petty and little, as something unworthy of his energy. Since that time what change had taken place in him?
For him everything had changed, he answered, but in him there had been no change; and if this thing which the girl had brought into his life had meant the best in life, it must always mean that.
She had been an inspiration; she must remain his spring of action. Was he a slave, he asked himself, that he should rebel?
Was he a boy, that he could turn his love to aught but the best account? He must remember her not as the woman who had crushed his spirit, but as she who had helped him, who had lifted him up to something better and finer. He would make sacrifice in her name; it would be in her name that he would rise to high places and accomplish much good.
She would not know this, but he would know.
He rose and brushed the papers away from him with an impatient sweep of the hand.
"I shall follow out the plan of which I spoke at dinner," he answered. "I shall resign here, and return home and enter Parliament."Mr. Collier laughed admiringly. "I love the way you English take your share of public life," he said, "the way you spend yourselves for your country, and give your brains, your lives, everything you have--all for the empire."Through the open window Sir Charles saw Miss Cameron half hidden by the vines of the veranda. The moonlight falling about her transformed her into a figure which was ideal, mysterious, and elusive, like a woman in a dream. He shook his head wearily.
"For the empire?" he asked.
