Frank had little to say about Uncle Henry and Aunt Agnes except that they were getting older, which I would have surmised myself. Besides, Frank had a sensitive nature; and I suppose he remembered the stormy scene when Gordon left my uncle's house. I fancied, in a woman's instinctive way, that there was something he wanted to say to me alone. And I was right enough. For when I walked with him as far as the hotel piazza, while we were gazing out over the shimmering sea Frank told me something that proved to be a word of destiny.
"You all are going back by New York, you said?" he began, looking up significantly. The idiom sounded sweet--_you all_--how long since I had heard that brace of words before!
"Well, I'll tell you something interesting; I didn't care to say it before your husband, for fear it might affect his plans--I know how matters stand between him and your uncle, you know--but I think you ought to be told. Your uncle's in New York."
"What?" I gasped, and I felt the colour leave my cheek; "uncle's what?--he's where?"
"He's in New York," Frank repeated calmly. "I've just come from there--we were staying at the same hotel."
"And Aunt Agnes?" I asked swiftly, my eyes fixed on him in the gloom.
"No, Mrs. Lundy's at home--your uncle went up on some business, I believe. Mighty successful too, as far as I could judge," Frank added.
I cared nothing for this. "What hotel, Frank?" I demanded eagerly; "tell me the hotel."
"The St. Denis--opposite Grace Church, you know."
Little more was said and I soon bade Frank farewell. Then I walked slowly back to Gordon, trying to compose myself, struggling to subject my impulse to my judgment. But it was of no use. My heart was the heart of childhood once again; all I knew was this, that a few hours would bring us to New York, that we had intended going there anyhow--and that my uncle was within reach of one who had never ceased to love him.
I paused a moment before I opened the door and went in where Gordon was still sitting, gazing out on the ever fascinating scene.
"Well, dear, did you pump him dry?" he asked jauntily as I entered.
"Oh, Gordon," and now I was on his knee (woman's throne of power) with his face between my hands; "oh, Gordon, don't say No. Don't, Gordon--won't you do this for me, this, that I'm going to ask?"