REBELLION
Genevieve rang for tea, and changed the conversation to impersonal
topics. A footman brought in a Russian samovar and a service of
eggshell china. They sipped their tea and chatted lightly about English
acquaintances, but with frequent glances towards the hall entrance.
Each was wondering which one would be first to come, Blake or Mr.
Leslie.
The conversation had languished to a mere pretext when Blake was
announced. The engineer entered slowly, his face red and moist from the
fierce drive of the sleet off the lake. He had come afoot.
Genevieve placed a trembling hand on the cover of her samovar, and
called to him gayly: "Hurry here at once and have a good hot cup of
tea. You must be frozen."
Blake came to them across the waxed floor with an ease and assurance of
step in part due to his visit to Ruthby Castle and in part to his walk
over the sleet-coated pavements.
"No tea for me, Miss Jenny," he replied with cheerful heartiness.
"Thanks, just the same. But I'm warm as toast--look it, too, eh?"
"Then take it to cool you off," suggested Lord James. "That's the
Russian plan. When you're cold, hot tea to warm you; when you're hot,
hot tea to cool you."
"Not when water tastes good to me," replied Blake with a significance
that did not escape his friend. "Well, Jimmy, so you beat me to it."
"Waited till after three," said Lord James.
"Thought you'd hang back to give me the start? Went you one better,
eh?" replied Blake. He stared fixedly into the handsome high-bred face
of his friend and then at Genevieve's down-bent head. "Well? What's the
good word? Is it--congratulations?"
"Not this time, old man," answered the Englishman lightly. He rose.
"Take my seat. Must be going."
Blake's eyes glowed. "You're the gamest ever, Jimmy boy."
"Don't crow till you're out of the woods," laughed his friend. "Can't
wish you success, y'know. But it's to continue the same between us as
it has been, if you're willing."
"That's like you, Jimmy!"
"To be sure. But I really must be going. Good-day, Miss Genevieve."
The girl looked up without attempting to conceal her affection and
sympathy for him.
"Dear friend," she said, "before you go, I wish to tell you how highly
I value and appreciate--"
"No more, no more, I beg of you," he protested, with genial insistence.
"Tom, I'll be dropping in on you at your office."
He bowed to Genevieve, and still cloaking his hurt with a cheerful
smile, started to leave them. At the same moment Mr. Leslie came
hurrying into the room. The sight of Lord James brought him to a stand.
"H'm!" he coughed. "So it's you, Lord Avondale? Hodges said--" His keen
eyes glanced past the Englishman to the big form across the corner of
the table from Genevieve. "What! Right, was he?--Genevieve."
"Yes, papa?" replied the girl, looking at Blake with a startled gaze.
She was very pale, but her delicately curved lips straightened with
quiet determination. She did not rise.
"Er--glad to meet you again so soon, Mr. Leslie," said Lord James,
deftly placing himself so that the other could not avoid his proffered
hand without marked discourtesy. Mr. Leslie held out his flaccid
fingers. They were caught fast and retained during a cordial and
prolonged handshake.
"When we first met," went on his lordship suavely, "time was lacking
for me to congratulate you on the fact that your daughter came through
her terrible experience so well. She has assured me that she feels all
the better for it. Only one, like myself, accustomed to knocking about
the tropics, can fully realize the extraordinary resourcefulness and
courage of the man who had the good fortune to bring her through it all
safely and, as she says, bettered."
"Yes, yes, we all know that, and admit it," replied the captive,
attempting to free his hand.
Lord James gave it a final wring. "To be sure! You, of all men, will
bear in mind what he accomplished. Yet I must insist that my own
appreciation is no less keen. It is the greatest satisfaction to me
that I am privileged to call Thomas Blake my friend."
"Your friend has put me under obligations," answered Mr. Leslie. "I
have acknowledged to him that I owe him a heavy debt for what he has
done. I stand ready to pay him for his services, whenever he is ready
to accept payment."
"Ah, indeed," murmured Lord James. "'Pon my word, now, that's what I
call deuced generous."
"No; that's not the question at all. It's merely a matter of a business
settlement for services rendered," replied Mr. Leslie.
"Yet one does not--er--value gratitude in pounds and dollars, y' know."
"No, no, of course you do not, papa!" exclaimed Genevieve. "Please
remember--please try to consider--"
She would better have remained silent. Her evident concern alarmed her
father to the point of exasperation.
"I am considering how this friend of Lord Avondale's bore himself
towards me, in my office, this morning," he interrupted her. He turned
again to Lord James. "I should not need to tell you, sir, that the
manner of expressing gratitude depends altogether on the circumstances.
We are now, however, considering another matter. You were about to
leave--You will always be welcome to my house, Lord Avondale, and so
will be your friends, _when they come and go with you._"
"Father!" protested Genevieve, rising to face him.
"My mistake, Miss Jenny," said Blake, coolly drawing himself up beside
her. "I thought it was _your_ house."
He swung about to Mr. Leslie, and said, with unexpected mildness:
"Don't worry; I'm going. We don't want to fuss here, do we?--to make it
any harder for her. But first, there's one thing. You're her father--I
want to say I'm sorry I cut loose this morning."
"What! you apologize?"
"As to what I said about my bridge plans--yes. If you had left out
about--If you hadn't rubbed it in so hard about me and--You know what I
mean. It made me red-hot. I couldn't help cutting loose. But, just the
same, I oughtn't to've said that about the plans, because--well,
because, you see, I don't believe it."
"You don't? Then why--?"
"I did believe it before. I believed it this morning, when I was mad.
But I've had time to cool off and think it over. Queer thing--all the
evidence and probabilities are there, just the same; but somehow I
can't believe it of you any longer--simply can't. You're her father."
"H'm--this puts a different face on the matter," admitted Mr. Leslie.
"I begin to think that I may have been rather too hasty. Had you been
more conciliatory, less--h'm--positive, I'm inclined to believe that
we--"
"I don't care what _you_ believe," was Blake's brusque rejoinder. "I'm
not trying to curry favor with you. Understand? Come on, Jimmy."
But Genevieve was at his elbow, between him and the door.
"You are not going now, Tom," she said.
"Genevieve," reproved her father. "This is most unlike you."
"Unlike my former frivolous, pampered self!" cried the girl. "I'm no
longer a silly debutante, papa. I've lived the grim hard realities of
life--there on that dreadful coast--with him. I'm a woman."
"You child! You're not even twenty-one."
"I am old--older than the centuries, papa--old enough to know my own
mind." She turned to Blake. "You were right, Tom. This is my
home--legally mine. You are welcome to stay."
"Mr. Leslie!" interposed Lord James, before her father could reply.
"One moment, if you please. I have told you that Mr. Blake and I are
friends. More than that, we are intimate friends--chums. I wish to
impress on you the very high esteem in which I hold him, the more than
admiration--"
"Chuck it, Jimmy," put in Blake.
Lord James concluded in a tone of polite frigidity. "And since you
place conditions on his welcome to your house, permit me to remark that
I prefer his acquaintance to yours." He bowed with utmost formality.
"H'm!" rasped Mr. Leslie. "You should understand, sir. Had you not
interrupted me--" He abruptly faced Blake. "You, at least, will
understand my position--that I have some reason--It is not that I wish
to appear discourteous, even after this morning. You've apologized; I
cannot ask you to go--I do not ask you to go. Yet--"
"If you please, papa," said Genevieve with entrancing sweetness.
"Well?"
"Isn't it time for you to dress?"
"No--came home early," replied Mr. Leslie, jerking out his watch. He
searched his daughter's face with an apprehensive glance, and again
addressed Blake. "Too early. There's time for a run out to George
Ashton's. Want to see him on a matter of business. Valuable
acquaintance for you to make. Jump into the runabout with me, and I'll
introduce you to him."
"Thanks," said Blake dryly. "Not to-day."
"Mr. Blake has just come, papa," said Genevieve. "You would not deprive
us of the pleasure of a little visit."
"H'm. By cutting it close, I can wait a few minutes."
"You need not trouble to wait, papa. You can introduce him to Mr.
Ashton some other time."
"May I offer myself as a substitute?" put in Lord James. "Mrs. Gantry
has told me so much about the elder Mr. Ashton. Quite curious to meet
him."
Blandly taking Mr. Leslie's assent as a matter of course, he started
toward the door. "Good-day, Miss Leslie. Ah--do we go out this way?
Can't tell you how I value the opportunity. Very good of you, very!"
"Wait," said Mr. Leslie. "Genevieve, haven't you an engagement out,
this afternoon?"
"If I had a dozen, papa, I should not deprive Mr. Blake of his call."
"Mr. Blake is welcome to his call. But--since you force me to say it--I
must expressly tell you, it is my wish that you should not see him
alone."
"I'm very sorry, papa, that you should forbid me," said Genevieve with
a quiet tensity that should have forewarned him.
"Sorry?"
"Yes, papa, because, if you insist, I shall have to disobey you."
"You will?"
He stared at her, astounded, and she sustained his gaze with a
steadiness that he perceived could not be shaken.
Lord James again interposed. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Leslie, if I may
seem to interfere. But as he is my friend, I, too, request you--"
"You?" exclaimed Mr. Leslie, with fresh astonishment. "You also side
with him?--when my sister-in-law tells me--"
"That is all by-the-bye, I assure you, sir. The least I can do for the
man who saved her life is to play fair. Permit me to say that you can
do no less."
Mr. Leslie looked at Genevieve with a troubled frown.
"At least, my dear, I hope you'll remember who you are," he said.
She made no reply, but stood white-faced and resolute until he went
from the room. Lord James followed close after him.
Blake and Genevieve were left alone.