“If he goes,” said the old man, in a low voice, “I shall never see him again.”
“Oh, no, don’t say that--don’t think it.”
“I know it. I shan’t be here to welcome him home.”
Then Emmie shed tears again, and again succeeded in wiping them away without being observed by either of the box-menders on the terrace.
“We have to bear in mind, dear Mr. Dyke, that it is very doubtful if either of us could prevent him from going sooner or later. And certainly, if he is to go, it should be as soon as possible. But my most dreadful thought is this. If I don’t give him the money he will start as usual, poorly equipped--he will be defeated by difficulties and turn back. Yet that perhaps may mean his eventual safety. Whereas, if he is really well fitted out for once, if he has every possible chance in his favour, then he will be able to push right on--and that may mean his doom. It’s a horrible responsibility. Think of it. It would be _I_ who had sent him to his death.”
“No.” Old Mr. Dyke raised himself on the bench and looked at her. “No, Emmie, no,” he said; and in his dim eyes she saw a faint flash that made him seem like a thin small ghost of Anthony. “No. If he is to do it, let him go for the big prize. Give him his full chance and don’t count the risks. Let it be all or nothing.”
She jumped up from the bench and stood looking down at him.
“I can’t decide,” he said. “You only can do that. The sacrifice will be yours, not mine. Only, as I venture to say, don’t spoil it by half measures.”
Then she called to Anthony. She had decided.
Anthony Dyke refused her offer, and stood firm to his refusal for two days. Then on the morning of the third day he accepted. He was of course enraptured. He echoed Mr. Dyke’s words in saying that her acquisition of comparative wealth was like a fairy tale.
“All this time I never knew I had a fairy godmother--I who have groused about my bad luck. At the fateful moment you suddenly show the shining crown on your dear head, you wave your magic wand, you give me the enchanted key. Oh, Emmie, what can I say? What can I ever do?”
“You can come back safe and sound,” said Emmie. “And you can give me your sacred word that you’ll never leave me again.”
Kissing her with frenzied warmth, he made his vow. But this first ecstasy being over, he began at once to treat her with a new and strange deference. He said that she had become the patron and chieftain of the glorious project.