The woman belonged to the older
branch of the family, but, being a woman, she was passed over. A time
came when he was invited by the head of the house to go and see his
inheritance. He would have gone at once and gladly, but for a hint at
the end of the letter to the effect that, if he would do his part, what
the French shamelessly call a _mariage de convenance_ might be arranged
between his cousin and himself--an arrangement advantageous to them both
from a certain point of view. He didn't set up for a paragon of
morality. Perhaps even, had things been a little different, he might
have been willing. As it was, he didn't like the notion, and he jibbed."
He paused. "But for all that," he said, his voice yet quieter and more
deliberate, "he wanted the woman, if he could make her care for him.
That was his difficulty. He had a feeling all along that the thing must
be an even greater offence to her than it was to him. He worried it all
through, and at last he worked out a scheme for them both. He called
himself by an old school _alias_, and came to her as a stranger----
"You're not eating anything, sweetheart. Wouldn't it be as well, just
for decency's sake? There's a comic ending to this story, so you mustn't
be sad. Who's that boy scowling at me on the other side of the table?
What's the matter with the child?"
"Never mind," murmured Priscilla hastily. "He doesn't mean anything.
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