No, he was not very apprehensive about the result, or he could not have carried the letter thus far unopened. But all the same the contents surprised him. He had expected, at the worst, some mild refusal on the ground of haste; and, at the best, an evasive hint that he might come to Brighton and talk to Lady Beresford. But all the writing on this sheet of paper consisted of two words, '_From Madge;_' and what accompanied them was a bit of forget-me-not--not painted, this time, but a bit of the real flower. It was a pretty notion. It confessed much, without saying much. There was a sort of maiden reticence about it, and yet kindness, and hope. What Frank King did not know was this--that it was Nan Beresford who had suggested that answer to his letter.
He never knew how he got home that morning. He was all in a tempest of eagerness and delight; he scarcely lived in to-day--it was next day. It was the future that seemed to be around him. He burst into his friend's bed-room before the breakfast gong had sounded.
'Beresford, I'll go with you whenever you like now. Whenever you like. I'm going to Brighton with you, I mean.'
'Oh, that's it, is it?' said Mr. Tom, without looking up--he was tying his shoes.
'I've heard from your sister, you know----'
'I thought so. It's all right then, is it?'
'I hope so. I'm very glad it's settled. And you know I don't want to turn you out of the house; but you've been very kind, waiting a day or two longer; and I _should_ like to get to Brighton at once.'
'I'll start in five minutes if you like,' said Mr. Tom, coolly, having finished with his shoes. 'And I suppose I ought to congratulate you. Well, I do. She's a very good sort of a girl. Only----'
'Well, I've seen a good deal about women and their goings on, don't you know?' said Mr. Tom, with a sort of shrug. 'They're always changing and chopping and twisting about. The best way is to marry them offhand, and take the nonsense out of them.'
Captain Frank laughed. This was not at all alarming. And when it became secretly known that Captain Frank was immediately going to Brighton to secure his promised bride, there was a great, though discreet rejoicing at Kingscourt; and even pretty Mary Coventry came with her demure and laughing congratulations; and Mr. Tom was made more of than ever during the few hours longer that he remained in the house. Frank King had not time to think about Nan now; it was Madge Beresford who had sent him that bit of forget-me-not.