"Isn't he a great old boy?"
He was tremendous, she owned, in language better chosen; and this new
community of feeling was restful to her.
"Come out into the garden," he said, and as they went along the path to
the grape arbor he took her hand and she left it to him. They seemed
restored to close relations, as if MacLeod had wrought some spell upon
them. By the time they reached the liquid greenness of the arbor light,
Peter was sure he loved her. He could turn to her quite passionately.
"Electra," he said, holding both her hands now, "I've missed you all
these days."
She smiled a little and that, with her glowing color, made her splendid.
"You have been here every day," she said, conceding him the grace of
having done his utmost.
"Yes, but it hasn't been right. There's been something between
us--something unexplained."
She knew, so she reflected, what that was. Rose had been between them.
But she listened with an attentive gravity.
"We must go back to Paris," Peter was urging. "I shall work there. We
will live simply and turn in everything to the Brotherhood. We must be
married--dear." He looked direct and manly, not boyish, now, and she
felt a sudden pride in him. "Electra, you'll go with me?"
She withdrew from him and sat down, indicating the other chair.
"Something very queer has happened," she said. "I must tell you about
it." It had just come to her again as it had been doing at moments
through the absorbing hour at luncheon, that she was in a difficult
place with grandmother, and that here was the one creature whom she had
the right to count upon. Rapidly she told him the facts of the case,
ending with her conclusion,--
"The house belongs to grandmother."
Peter was frowning comically. In his effort to think, he looked as if
the sun were in his eyes.
"I don't believe I understand," he said, and again she told him.
"You don't mean you are building all this on a casual sentence in a
book?" He frowned the harder.
Electra was breathing pleasure at the beauty of the case.
"It is not a casual sentence," she insisted. "It's an extract from a
letter."
Peter had no intimate acquaintance with the business of the world, but
he knew its elements. He regarded her with tenderness, as a woman
attractively ignorant of harsh details.
"But Electra, dear, that isn't legal. It doesn't have the slightest
bearing on what you should give or what she could exact from you--if she
were that kind."
"No," she said, "it isn't legal. But it is--ethical." She used the large
word with a sense of safety, loving the sound of it and conscious that
Peter would not choke her off.
"But it isn't that. You don't know how your grandfather wrote that
letter. He may have done it in a fit of temper, or malice, or
carelessness, or a dozen things, and forgotten it next day. A letter's
the idlest thing on earth. There's no reason for your considering it a
minute."
"I am bound to consider it," said Electra. "There it is, in black and
white. I shall make over the place to grandmother."
"Well!" Peter felt like whistling, and then unpursed his lips because,
according to Electra, whistling was not polite. He had no restrictions
relative to her giving away her property; but he felt very seriously
that she must not be allowed to indulge herself in any form of insanity,
however picturesque. A detail occurred to him, and he said quickly, with
a look at her,--
"But Electra, you and Tom inherited this place together."
She knew what was coming and her color deepened. Again Rose had stepped
between them, and Electra felt herself back in their old atmosphere of
constraint.
"I have inherited it from Tom," she rejoined.
"You ignore his wife?"
Electra was silent for a long time. It was a hard struggle. But she
spoke at last and in a tone which made the difficulty of speech
apparent.
"Since Mr. MacLeod has been here--"
"Well?"
"I must recognize her as his daughter."
"Didn't you believe that, Electra? Not even that?"
"I am forced to believe it now. When he comes back, I shall ask him to
corroborate her story. If he does--I shall be obliged to--give her what
is just."
"Not otherwise, Electra? You believe him."
"I believe him implicitly." Her tone rang out in an astonishing
assurance. She might have been pledging fealty to some adored intimate.
"You believe him. You would not believe me?"