"I think you ought to know, George," continued Warwick, without waiting for a reply to his question, "that my sister and I are not of an old family, or a rich family, or a distinguished family; that she can bring you nothing but herself; that we have no connections of which you could boast, and no relatives to whom we should be glad to introduce you. You must take us for ourselves alone--we are new people.""My dear John," replied the young man warmly, "there is a great deal of nonsense about families. If a man is noble and brave and strong, if a woman is beautiful and good and true, what matters it about his or her ancestry? If an old family can give them these things, then it is valuable; if they possess them without it, then of what use is it, except as a source of empty pride, which they would be better without? If all new families were like yours, there would be no advantage in belonging to an old one. All I care to know of Rowena's family is that she is your sister;and you'll pardon me, old fellow, if I add that she hardly needs even you,--she carries the stamp of her descent upon her face and in her heart.""It makes me glad to hear you speak in that way," returned Warwick, delighted by the young man's breadth and earnestness.
"Oh, I mean every word of it," replied Tryon.
"Ancestors, indeed, for Rowena! I will tell you a family secret, John, to prove how little I care for ancestors. My maternal great-great-grandfather, a hundred and fifty years ago, was hanged, drawn, and quartered for stealing cattle across the Scottish border. How is that for a pedigree? Behold in me the lineal descendant of a felon!"Warwick felt much relieved at this avowal.
His own statement had not touched the vital point involved; it had been at the best but a half-truth;but Tryon's magnanimity would doubtless protect Rena from any close inquiry concerning her past.
It even occurred to Warwick for a moment that he might safely disclose the secret to Tryon; but an appreciation of certain facts of history and certain traits of human nature constrained him to put the momentary thought aside. It was a great relief, however, to imagine that Tryon might think lightly of this thing that he need never know.
"Well, Rena," he said to his sister when he went home at noon: "I've sounded George.""What did he say?" she asked eagerly.
"I told him we were people of no family, and that we had no relatives that we were proud of.
He said he loved you for yourself, and would never ask you about your ancestry.""Oh, I am so glad!" exclaimed Rena joyfully.
This report left her very happy for about three hours, or until she began to analyze carefully her brother's account of what had been said. Warwick's statement had not been specific,--he had not told Tryon THE thing. George's reply, in turn, had been a mere generality. The concrete fact that oppressed her remained unrevealed, and her doubt was still unsatisfied.
Rena was occupied with this thought when her lover next came to see her. Tryon came up the sanded walk from the gate and spoke pleasantly to the nurse, a good-looking yellow girl who was seated on the front steps, playing with little Albert. He took the boy from her arms, and she went to call Miss Warwick.
Rena came out, followed by the nurse, who offered to take the child.
"Never mind, Mimy, leave him with me," said Tryon.
The nurse walked discreetly over into the garden, remaining within call, but beyond the hearing of conversation in an ordinary tone.
"Rena, darling," said her lover, "when shall it be? Surely you won't ask me to wait a week.
Why, that's a lifetime!"
Rena was struck by a brilliant idea. She would test her lover. Love was a very powerful force; she had found it the greatest, grandest, sweetest thing in the world. Tryon had said that he loved her; he had said scarcely anything else for several weeks, surely nothing else worth remembering.
She would test his love by a hypothetical question.
"You say you love me," she said, glancing at him with a sad thoughtfulness in her large dark eyes. "How much do you love me?""I love you all one can love. True love has no degrees; it is all or nothing!""Would you love me," she asked, with an air of coquetry that masked her concern, pointing toward the girl in the shrubbery, "if I were Albert's nurse yonder?""If you were Albert's nurse," he replied, with a joyous laugh, "he would have to find another within a week, for within a week we should be married."The answer seemed to fit the question, but in fact, Tryon's mind and Rena's did not meet. That two intelligent persons should each attach a different meaning to so simple a form of words as Rena's question was the best ground for her misgiving with regard to the marriage. But love blinded her. She was anxious to be convinced.
She interpreted the meaning of his speech by her own thought and by the ardor of his glance, and was satisfied with the answer.
"And now, darling," pleaded Tryon, "will you not fix the day that shall make me happy? Ishall be ready to go away in three weeks. Will you go with me?""Yes," she answered, in a tumult of joy. She would never need to tell him her secret now. It would make no difference with him, so far as she was concerned; and she had no right to reveal her brother's secret. She was willing to bury the past in forgetfulness, now that she knew it would have no interest for her lover.
