"Just my feeling in the matter!" Allan struck in, glibly. "Now we can come to what I particularly wanted to consult you about. If this was your case, Midwinter, you would be able to say the right words to her--you would put it delicately, even though you were putting it quite in the dark. I can't do that. I 'm a blundering sort of fellow; and I'm horribly afraid, if I can't get some hint at the truth to help me at starting, of saying something to distress her. Family misfortunes are such tender subjects to touch on, especially with such a refined woman, such a tender-hearted woman, as Miss Gwilt. There may have been some dreadful death in the family--some relation who has disgraced himself--some infernal cruelty which has forced the poor thing out on the world as a governess. Well, turning it over in my mind, it struck me that the major might be able to put me on the right tack. It is quite possible that he might have been informed of Miss Gwilt's family circumstances before he engaged her, isn't it?""It is possible, Allan, certainly."
"Just my feeling again! My notion is to speak to the major. If Icould only get the story from him first, I should know so much better how to speak to Miss Gwilt about it afterward. You advise me to try the major, don't you?"There was a pause before Midwinter replied. When he did answer, it was a little reluctantly.
"I hardly know how to advise you, Allan," he said. "This is a very delicate matter.""I believe you would try the major, if you were in my place,"returned Allan, reverting to his inveterately personal way of putting the question.
"Perhaps I might," said Midwinter, more and more unwillingly.
"But if I did speak to the major, I should be very careful, in your place, not to put myself in a false position. I should be very careful to let no one suspect me of the meanness of prying into a woman's secrets behind her back."Allan's face flushed. "Good heavens, Midwinter," he exclaimed, "who could suspect me of that?""Nobody, Allan, who really knows you."
"The major knows me. The major is the last man in the world to misunderstand me. All I want him to do is to help me (if he can)to speak about a delicate subject to Miss Gwilt, without hurting her feelings. Can anything be simpler between two gentlemen?"Instead of replying, Midwinter, still speaking as constrainedly as ever, asked a question on his side. "Do you mean to tell Major Milroy," he said, "what your intentions really are toward Miss Gwilt?"Allan's manner altered. He hesitated, and looked confused.
"I have been thinking of that," he replied; "and I mean to feel my way first, and then tell him or not afterward, as matters turn out?"A proceeding so cautious as this was too strikingly inconsistent with Allan's character not to surprise any one who knew him.
Midwinter showed his surprise plainly.
"You forget that foolish flirtation of mine with Miss Milroy,"Allan went on, more and more confusedly. "The major may have noticed it, and may have thought I meant--well, what I didn't mean. It might be rather awkward, mightn't it, to propose to his face for his governess instead of his daughter?"He waited for a word of answer, but none came. Midwinter opened his lips to speak, and suddenly checked himself. Allan, uneasy at his silence, doubly uneasy under certain recollections of the major's daughter which the conversation had called up, rose from the table and shortened the interview a little impatiently.
"Come! come!" he said, "don't sit there looking unutterable things; don't make mountains out of mole-hills. You have such an old, old head, Midwinter, on those young shoulders of yours!
Let's have done with all these _pros_ and _cons._. Do you mean to tell me in plain words that it won't do to speak to the major?""I can't take the responsibility, Allan, of telling you that. To be plainer still, I can't feel confident of the soundness of any advice I may give you in--in our present position toward each other. All I am sure of is that I cannot possibly be wrong in entreating you to do two things.""What are they?"
"If you speak to Major Milroy, pray remember the caution I have given you! Pray think of what you say before you say it!""I'll think, never fear! What next?"
"Before you take any serious step in this matter, write and tell Mr. Brock. Will you promise me to do that?""With all my heart. Anything more?"
"Nothing more. I have said my last words."Allan led the way to the door. "Come into my room," he said, "and I'll give you a cigar. The servants will be in here directly to clear away, and I want to go on talking about Miss Gwilt.""Don't wait for me," said Midwinter; "I'll follow you in a minute or two."He remained seated until Allan had closed the door, then rose, and took from a corner of the room, where it lay hidden behind one of the curtains, a knapsack ready packed for traveling. As he stood at the window thinking, with the knapsack in his hand, a strangely old, care-worn look stole over his face: he seemed to lose the last of his youth in an instant.
What the woman's quicker insight had discovered days since, the man's slower perception had only realized in the past night. The pang that had wrung him when he heard Allan's avowal had set the truth self-revealed before Midwinter for the first time. He had been conscious of looking at Miss Gwilt with new eyes and a new mind, on the next occasion when they met after the memorable interview in Major Milroy's garden; but he had never until now known the passion that she had roused in him for what it really was. Knowing it at last, feeling it consciously in full possession of him, he had the courage which no man with a happier experience of life would have possessed--the courage to recall what Allan had confided to him, and to look resolutely at the future through his own grateful remembrances of the past.
