Of High Descent. Fenn George Manville

don’t know her own mind, that’s about it,” continued Pradelle; “and a word from you might do a deal.”

      “Got any money, Vic?”

      “Now there’s a mean sort of a question to ask a friend! Have I got any money? As if a man must be made of money before he may look at his old chum’s sister.”

      “I wasn’t thinking about her, but of something else,” said Harry hastily.

      “Ah, well, I wasn’t; but look there!”

      “What at?” said Harry, whose eyes were shut, and his thoughts far away.

      “Them. They’re going for a walk. Why. Hal, old chap, they saw us come down here.”

      Harry started into wakefulness, and realised the fact that his sister and Madelaine Van Heldre were passing before them, but down by the water’s edge.

      “Let’s follow them,” said Pradelle eagerly.

      “Wait a moment.”

      Harry waited to think, and scraps of his aunt’s remarks floated through his brain respecting the fair daughters of France, who would fall at the feet of the young count.

      Harry cogitated. The daughters of France were no doubt very lovely, but they were imaginative: and though Madelaine Van Heldre might, as his aunt said, not be of the pure Huguenot blood, still that fact did not seem to matter to him. For that was not imagination before him, but the bright, natural, clever girl whom he had known from childhood, his old playfellow, who had always seemed to supply a something wanting in his mental organisation, the girl who had led him and influenced his career.

      “Bother Aunt Marguerite!” he said to himself, and then aloud, “Come along!”

      Volume One – Chapter Six.

      Harry Vine Speaks Plainly; So does his Friend

      Louise and Madelaine went on down by the water’s edge, in profound ignorance of the fact that they were followed at a distance of about a couple of hundred yards.

      The two friends female were then in profound ignorance of the fact that they were watched, so were the two friends male.

      For some time past the owner of the mine high up on the cliff had been a thoroughly energetic man of business, but after the first introduction to the Vine family his business energy seemed to receive an impetus. He was working for her, everything might be for her.

      Then came Pradelle upon the scene, and the young Scot was not long in seeing that the brother’s London friend was also impressed, and that his advances found favour with Harry. Whether they did with the sister he could not tell.

      The consequence was that there was a good deal of indecision on Duncan Leslie’s part, some neglect of his busy mine, and a good deal of use of a double glass, which was supposed to be kept in a room, half office, half study and laboratory, for the purpose of scanning the shipping coming into port.

      On the day in question the glass was being applied to a purpose rather reprehensible, perhaps, but with some excuse of helping Duncan Leslie’s affair of the heart. From his window he could see the old granite-built house, and with interruptions, due to rocks and doublings and jutting pieces of cliff, a great deal of the winding and zigzag path, half steps, which led down to the shore.

      As, then, was frequently the case, the glass was directed toward the residence of the Vines, and Duncan Leslie saw Louise and Madelaine go down to the sea, stand watching the receding tide, and then go off west.

      After gazing through the glass for a time he laid it down, with his heart beating faster than usual, as he debated within himself whether he should go down to the shore and follow them.

      It was a hard fight, and inclination was rapidly mastering etiquette, when two figures, hitherto concealed, came into view from beneath the cliff and began to follow the ladies.

      Duncan Leslie’s eyes flashed as he caught up the glass again, and after looking through it for a few minutes he closed it and threw it down.

      “I’m making a fool of myself,” he said bitterly. “Better attend to my business and think about it no more.”

      The desire was upon him to focus the glass again and watch what took place, but he turned away with an angry ejaculation and put the glass in its case.

      “I might have known better,” he said, “and it would be like playing the spy.”

      He strode out and went to his engine-house, forcing himself to take an interest in what was going on, and wishing the while that he had not used that glass in so reprehensible a way.

      Oddly enough, just at that moment Uncle Luke was seated outside the door of his little cottage in its niche of the cliff below the mine, and wishing for this very glass.

      His was a cottage of the roughest construction, which he had bought some years before of an old fisherman; and his seat – he could not afford chairs, he said – was a rough block of granite, upon which he was very fond of sunning himself when the weather was fine.

      “I’ve a good mind to go and ask Leslie to lend me his glass,” muttered the old man. “No. He’d only begin asking favours of me. But all that ought to be stopped. Wonder whether George knows. What’s Van Heldre about? As for those two girls, I’ll give them such a talking to – the gipsies! Bah! it’s no business of mine! I’m not going to marry.”

      “Yes, let’s sit down,” said Madelaine, turning round. “Oh!”

      “What is it? sprained your ankle?”

      “No. Mr Pradelle and Harry are close by.”

      “Let’s walk on quickly then, and go round back by the fields.”

      “But it will be six miles.”

      “Never mind if it’s sixteen,” said Louise, increasing her pace.

      “Hallo, girls,” cried Harry, and they were obliged to face round.

      There was no warm look of welcome from either, but Pradelle was too much of the London man of the world to be taken aback, and he stepped forward to Louise’s side, smiling.

      “You have chosen a delightful morning for your walk, Miss Vine.”

      “Yes, but we were just going back.”

      “No; don’t go back yet,” said Harry quickly, for he had strung himself up. “Vic, old fellow, walk on with my sister. I want to have a chat with Miss Van Heldre.”

      The girls exchanged glances, each seeming to ask the other for counsel.

      Then, in a quiet, decisive way, Madelaine spoke.

      “Yes, do, Louie dear; I wanted to speak to your brother, too.”

      There was another quick look passing between the friends, and then Louise bowed and walked on, Pradelle giving Harry a short nod which meant, according to his judgment, “It’s all right.”

      Louise was for keeping close to her companion, but her brother evidently intended her to have a tête-à-tête encounter with his friend, and she realised directly that Madelaine did not second her efforts. In fact the latter yielded at once to Harry’s manoeuvres, and hung back with him, while Pradelle pressed forward, so that before many minutes had elapsed, the couples, as they walked west, were separated by a space of quite a couple of hundred yards.

      “Now I do call that good of you, Maddy,” said Harry eagerly. “You are, and you always were, a dear good little thing.”

      “Do you think so?” she said directly, and her pleasant bright face was now very grave.

      “Do I think so! You know I do. There, I want a good talk with you, dear. It’s time I spoke plainly, and that we fully understood one another.”

      “I thought we did, Harry.”

      “Well, yes, of course, but I want to be more plain. We’re no boy and girl now.”

      “No,