Of High Descent. Fenn George Manville

did I get on indeed!” cried Pradelle angrily. “Look here, Harry Vine, are you playing square with me?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “What I say: are you honest, or have you been setting her against me?”

      “Why you – no, I won’t quarrel,” cried Harry. “What did she say to you?”

      “Say to me? I was never so snubbed in my life. Her ladyship doesn’t know me if she thinks I’m going to give up like that.”

      “There, that’ll do, Vic. No threats, please.”

      “Oh, no; I’m not going to threaten. I can wait.”

      “Yes,” said Harry, thoughtfully; “we chose the wrong time. We mustn’t give up, Vic; we shall have to wait.”

      And they went back to their old nook beneath the cliff to smoke their pipes, while as the thin blue vapour arose Harry’s hot anger grew cool, and he began to think of his aunt’s words, of Comte Henri des Vignes, and of the fair daughters of France – a reverie from which he was aroused by his companion, as he said suddenly —

      “I say, Harry, lad, I want you to lend me a little coin.”

      Volume One – Chapter Seven.

      Chez Van Heldre

      The two friends parted at the gate, Madelaine refusing to go in.

      “No,” she said; “they will be expecting me at home.”

      “Maddy dear, ought we not to confide in each other?”

      “Ah!” exclaimed Madelaine, with a sigh of relief that the constraint was over. “Yes, dear. Did Mr Pradelle propose to you?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you told him it was impossible?”

      “Yes. What did my brother want to say?”

      “That we ought to be married now, and it would make him a better man.”

      “And you told him it was impossible?”

      “Yes.”

      There was another sigh as if of relief on both sides, and the two girls kissed again and parted.

      It was a brisk quarter of an hour’s walk to the Van Heldres’, which lay at the end of the main street up the valley down which the little river ran; and on entering the door, with a longing upon her to go at once to her room and sit down and cry, Madelaine uttered a sigh full of misery, for she saw that it was impossible.

      As she approached the great stone porch leading into the broad hall, which was one of the most attractive-looking places in the house, filled as it was with curiosities and other objects brought by the various captains from the Mediterranean, and embracing cabinets from Constantinople with rugs and pipes, little terra-cotta figures from Sardinia, and pictures and pieces of statuary from Rome, Naples, and Trieste, she was saluted with —

      “Ah, my dear, I’m so glad you’ve come back. Where’s papa?”

      “I have not seen him, mamma.”

      “Busy, I suppose. How he does work!” Then suddenly, “By the way, that Mr Pradelle. I don’t like him, my dear.”

      “Neither do I, mamma.”

      “That’s right, my dear; I’m very glad to hear you say so; but surely Louie Vine is not going to be beguiled by him?”

      “Oh no.”

      “All, that’s all very well; but Luke Vine came in as he went by, to say in his sneering fashion that Louie and Mr Pradelle were down on the shore, and that you were walking some distance behind with Harry.”

      “Mr Luke Vine seems to have plenty of time for watching his neighbours,” said Madelaine contemptuously.

      “Yes; he is always noticing things; but don’t blame him, dear. I’m sure he means well, and I can forgive him anything for that. Here’s your father.”

      “Ah! my dears,” said Van Heldre cheerily. “Tired out.”

      “You must be,” said Mrs Van Heldre, bustling about him to take his hat and gloves.

      “Here, do come and sit down.”

      The merchant went into the drawing-room very readily, and submitted to several little pleasant attentions from wife and daughter.

      Evening came on with Van Heldre seated in his easy-chair, thoughtfully watching wife and daughter; both of whom had work in their laps; but Mrs Van Heldre’s was all a pretence, for, after a few stitches, her head began to nod forward, then back against the cushion, and then, as if by magic, she was fast asleep.

      Madelaine’s needle, however, flew fast, and she went on working, with her father watching her attentively, till she raised her eyes.

      “You want to say something to me, Maddy,” he said in a low voice.

      “Yes, papa.”

      “About your walk down on the beach?”

      Madelaine nodded.

      “You know I went.”

      “Yes; I saw you, and Luke Vine came and told me as well.”

      “It was very kind of him,” said Madelaine, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

      “Kind and unkind, my dear. You see he has no business – nothing to do but to think of other people. But he means well, my dear, and he likes you.”

      “I have often thought so.”

      “Yes; and you were right. He warned me that I was not to let your intimacy grow closer with his nephew.”

      “Indeed, papa!”

      “Yes, my dear. He said that I was a – well, I will not tell you what, for not stopping it directly, for that Harry was rapidly drifting into a bad course – that it was a hopeless case.”

      “That is not the way to redeem him, father.”

      “No, my clear, it is not. But you were going to say something to me?”

      “Yes,” said Madelaine, hesitating. Then putting down her work she rose and went to her father’s side, knelt down, and resting her arms upon his knees, looked straight up in his face.

      “Well, Maddy?”

      “I wanted to speak to you about Harry.” There was a slight twitching about the merchant’s brows, but his face was calm directly, and he said coolly —

      “What about Harry Vine?” Madelaine hesitated for a few moments, and then spoke out firmly and bravely.

      “I have been thinking about his position, father, and of how sad it is for him to be wasting his days as he is down here.”

      “Very sad, Maddy. He is, as Luke Vine says, going wrong. Well?”

      “I have been thinking, papa, that you might take him into your office and give him a chance of redeeming the past.”

      “Nice suggestion, my dear. What would old Crampton say?”

      “Mr Crampton could only say that you had done a very kind act for the son of your old friend.”

      “Humph! Well?”

      “You could easily arrange to take him, papa, and with your firm hand over him it would do an immense deal of good.”

      “Not to me.”

      There was a pause, and Van Heldre gazed into his child’s unblenching eyes.

      “So we are coming at facts,” he said at last. “Harry asked you to interfere on his behalf?”

      Madelaine shook her head and smiled.

      “Is this your own idea?”

      “Entirely.”

      “Then what was the meaning of the walk on the beach to-day?”

      “Harry