"There are so many ways in which a gentleman can be of assistance to three poor lonely women, especially when he is at the same time so friendly and so delicate as Mr. Wright. I don't know what we should have done without him, and I feel as if every one ought to know it.
He seems like a very old friend. My daughter and I quite worship him.
I will not conceal from you that when I saw you coming through the grounds a short time ago without him I was very much disappointed. I hope he is not ill."
Bernard sat listening, with his eyes on the ground.
"Oh no, he is simply at home writing letters."
Mrs. Vivian was silent a moment.
"I suppose he has a very large correspondence."
"I really don't know. Just now that I am with him he has a smaller one than usual."
"Ah yes. When you are separated I suppose you write volumes to each other.
But he must have a great many business letters."
"It is very likely," said Bernard. "And if he has, you may be sure he writes them."
"Order and method!" Mrs. Vivian exclaimed. "With his immense property those virtues are necessary."
Bernard glanced at her a moment.
"My dear Lovelock," he said to himself, "you are not such a fool as you seem.--Gordon's virtues are always necessary, doubtless," he went on. "But should you say his property was immense?"
Mrs. Vivian made a delicate little movement of deprecation.
"Oh, don't ask me to say! I know nothing about it; I only supposed he was rich."
"He is rich; but he is not a Croesus."
"Oh, you fashionable young men have a standard of luxury!" said Mrs. Vivian, with a little laugh. "To a poverty-stricken widow such a fortune as Mr. Wright's seems magnificent."
"Don't call me such horrible names!" exclaimed Bernard.
"Our friend has certainly money enough and to spare."
"That was all I meant. He once had occasion to allude to his property, but he was so modest, so reserved in the tone he took about it, that one hardly knew what to think."
"He is ashamed of being rich," said Bernard. "He would be sure to represent everything unfavorably."
"That 's just what I thought!" This ejaculation was more eager than Mrs. Vivian might have intended, but even had it been less so, Bernard was in a mood to appreciate it. "I felt that we should make allowances for his modesty. But it was in very good taste,"
Mrs. Vivian added.
"He 's a fortunate man," said Bernard. "He gets credit for his good taste--and he gets credit for the full figure of his income as well!"
"Ah," murmured Mrs. Vivian, rising lightly, as if to make her words appear more casual, "I don't know the full figure of his income.
"
She was turning away, and Bernard, as he raised his hat and separated from her, felt that it was rather cruel that he should let her go without enlightening her ignorance.
But he said to himself that she knew quite enough. Indeed, he took a walk along the Lichtenthal Alley and carried out this line of reflection. Whether or no Miss Vivian were in love with Gordon Wright, her mother was enamored of Gordon's fortune, and it had suddenly occurred to her that instead of treating the friend of her daughter's suitor with civil mistrust, she would help her case better by giving him a hint of her state of mind and appealing to his sense of propriety.
Nothing could be more natural than that Mrs. Vivian should suppose that Bernard desired his friend's success; for, as our thoughtful hero said to himself, what she had hitherto taken it into her head to fear was not that Bernard should fall in love with her daughter, but that her daughter should fall in love with him.
Watering-place life is notoriously conducive to idleness of mind, and Bernard strolled for half an hour along the overarched avenue, glancing alternately at these two insupposable cases.
A few days afterward, late in the evening, Gordon Wright came to his room at the hotel.
"I have just received a letter from my sister," he said.
"I am afraid I shall have to go away."
"Ah, I 'm sorry for that," said Bernard, who was so well pleased with the actual that he desired no mutation.
"I mean only for a short time," Gordon explained. "My poor sister writes from England, telling me that my brother-in-law is suddenly obliged to go home.
She has decided not to remain behind, and they are to sail a fortnight hence.
She wants very much to see me before she goes, and as I don't know when I shall see her again, I feel as if I ought to join her immediately and spend the interval with her. That will take about a fortnight."
"I appreciate the sanctity of family ties and I project myself into your situation," said Bernard. "On the other hand, I don't envy you a breathless journey from Baden to Folkestone."
"It 's the coming back that will be breathless," exclaimed Gordon, smiling.
"You will certainly come back, then?"
"Most certainly. Mrs. Vivian is to be here another month."
"I understand. Well, we shall miss you very much."
Gordon Wright looked for a moment at his companion.
"You will stay here, then? I am so glad of that."
"I was taking it for granted; but on reflection--what do you recommend?"
"I recommend you to stay."
"My dear fellow, your word is law," said Bernard.
