"Sir, I love your daughter and she loves me. I am poor but able. I have won many prizes at school, and in the Faculty of Economics and Commercial Science in the University of Thrigsby. I am young, sir, but----"
"The woods are very beautiful at this time of year."
"Are you staying long?" This came at length in a snappy, cross-examining voice.
René was overwhelmed with the grubby shrunk feeling. It seemed so easy for these people to mount the high horse of their social superiority.
"Will you kindly tell your aunt that we are expecting her to dinner the day after to-morrow?"
With that Mr. Bentley rolled in at the garden gate (he was a fat little man) and closed it, though he knew that René's way lay through the garden.
Raging, the young man walked the necessitated extra mile, infuriated and chilled by two questions: Had Cathleen removed the bracken from her hair? and Was that meeting by the gate accident or design?
That night he asked his Aunt Janet about his father. She dodged his inquiries, and he could get nothing from her but this:
"I admire your mother more than I can say. She married a bad Fourmy, and that's as bad as you can get. Poor, too. I was glad when that little money came to her."
He gave her Mr. Bentley's message, and she said:
"You mustn't let their way of living go upsetting you. It's just money. You've got to fill the gap between you with more than that."
Did she know of his love? Was she warning him? Did she approve? Did she think him worthy? How could people survive love and become old and dull? All these and more questions buzzed about him as he lay in bed. He brushed them all aside with the cry, "Oh, but I love her!" And, being young and full of health, he was soon asleep, though a blank tossing night would have more pleased him and his mood.
The homeward journey was by no means so agreeable.
EVERY year since he had been a small boy, as the carriage rounded the crag which blots the lake out of sight, René had been moved to tears. Happiness and brightness were left behind, and every moment brought him nearer to dullness and dark streets and uncomprehending minds. And now, as he rounded the crag, Cathleen appeared on the summit, just too late to meet him or to come within earshot. She was wearing a blue sunbonnet, and she snatched it from her head and waved it until he was out of sight. He turned and watched her and tears came, and he could hardly choke back his sobs, and hoped miserably that the driver of his fly was not aware of his unmanliness.