“Wait, Jeff. We mustn’t be selfish. I’m her mother, and much as I’d hate to see her marry Keefe, I’d far prefer it—for her sake, than——”
“No! a thousand times, no! Why, I won’t give her up! Keefe is a fine man—I’ve nothing against him—but she’s my Maida—my own little sweetheart——”
“And for that reason—for your own sake—you’re going to claim her?”
“It isn’t only for my own sake”—Jeff spoke more humbly; “but I know—I know how she loves me. To let her marry another would be to do her a grievous wrong——”
Mrs. Wheeler pointed from the window, and they saw Maida walking across the lawn in deep and earnest conversation with Curtis Keefe. He was tall and handsome and the deferential air and courteous attitude all spoke in his favor. Maida was apparently listening with interest to his talk, and they went on slowly toward the old sycamore and sat down on the bench beneath it.
“Our trysting-place!” Jeffrey murmured, his eyes fastened on the pair.
It did not require over-close observation to see that Maida was listening willingly to Keefe. Nor was there room for doubt that he was saying something that pleased her. She was brighter and more cheerful than she had been for days.
“You see,” said Sara Wheeler, sadly. “And he is a worth-while man. Mr. Appleby thought very highly of him.”
“I don’t!” said Allen, briefly, and unable to stand any more, he left the room.
He went straight to the two who were sitting under the big tree, and spoke directly:
“What does this mean, Maida? Your mother tells me you——”
“Let me answer,” spoke up Keefe, gaily; “it means that Miss Wheeler has promised to marry me. And we ask your congratulations.”
“Are you not aware,” Jeff’s face was white but his voice was controlled and steady, “that Miss Wheeler is my fiancée?”
“Hardly that,” demurred Keefe. “I believe there was what is called an understanding, but I’m assured it has never been announced. However, the lady will speak for herself.”
“Go away, Jeff,” Maida pleaded; “please, go away.”
“Not until you tell me yourself, Maida, what you are doing. Why does Mr. Keefe say these things?”
“It is true.” Maida’s face was as white as Allen’s. “I am going to marry Mr. Keefe. If you considered me bound to you, I—hereby break it off. Please go away!” the last words were wrung from her in a choked, agonized voice, as if she were at the end of her composure.