Pearl of Pearl Island | Page 3

books lying on the tables, as you
used to do when I was a girl, and they were scarcer and dearer. How is
this last one going?"
"I have reason to believe my publishers are not absolutely
broken-hearted over it, which leads me to think that they have probably
done pretty well out of it. They are not what you might call a gushing
race, you know, but they have given me a kind of cautious half-hint
that they might not refuse to look at my next if I offered it to them on
my bended knees. But let us get back to our--to Miss Brandt. I had no
idea she was an heiress. I have really never thought of money in the
matter, except as to how I could earn enough to offer it to her."
"She has a fair portion--about two thousand a year, I believe. Her father
was Danish Consul in Glasgow, and had a shipping business there. I
should not be surprised if Mr. Pixley had views of his own concerning
Margaret's portion and his son--and of course Margaret herself."
"Will you permit me to say, 'Hang Mr. Pixley!' dear Lady Elspeth? It
would be such a relief--if you're sure you don't mind."
"You may say 'Hang Mr. Pixley!' though it is not an expression I am in
the habit of using myself. But please don't begin it with a D."
"Hang Mr. Pixley, and Mr. Pixley's son, and all his intentions!" he said

fervently and with visible relish.
"Yes," she nodded slowly, as though savouring it; and then added, with
a delicious twinkle of the soft brown eyes, "There is something in that
that appeals to me. Jeremiah Pixley is almost too good for this world.
At least--"
"He is absolutely unwholesomely good. My own private opinion is that
he's a disreputable old blackg--I mean whited sepulchre."
"Unwholesomely good!" She nodded again. "Yes,--that, I think, very
fairly expresses him. 'Unco' guid,' we would say up north. But, all the
same, he is Margaret's uncle and guardian and trustee. He is also the
kind of man whom nothing can turn from a line he has once adopted."
"I know. Pigheaded as a War-Office-mule," he side-tracked hastily.
For she had looked at him with a momentary bristle of enquiry in the
gentle brown eyes, and he remembered, just in time, that her husband
had once held the reins in Pall Mall for half a year, when, feeling
atrophy creeping on, he resigned office and died three months later.
He hastened to add,--"The ordinary Army-mule, you know, is specially
constructed with a cast-iron mouth, and a neck of granite, and a
disposition like--like Mr. Pixley's. I imagine Mr. Pixley can be
excessively unpleasant when he tries. To me he is excessively
unpleasant even to think of, and without any exertion whatever on his
part."
"Yes. Mrs. Pixley would rather convey that impression. She is always
depressed and apprehensive-looking. But she is very fond of Margaret,
and that no doubt is why--But I suppose she really has no choice in the
matter, until she comes of age--"
"Mrs. Pixley?"
"Until Margaret comes into her own she is no doubt obliged to submit
to her guardian's views. It is difficult to imagine anyone not a Pixley

living in the Pixley atmosphere of their own free will. What is the son
like? I have only seen him once or twice. Does he take after his father?"
"He's about twice as tall, and several times as wide in some respects, I
should say,--certainly in the matter of the enjoyment of life. He's not
bad-looking--in a kind of a way, you know,--that is, for those who like
that kind of looks,--a trifle fleshy perhaps. But he's a fair dancer, and
sings a song well, and can talk about nothing as nicely as any man I
ever met. It's an accomplishment I often envy."
"I wouldn't trouble about it, if I were you. There are things more worth
doing in the world. And that reminds me. We were talking of your
books. I've been wanting to tell you that your love-scenes are not
altogether to my liking. They are just a little--well, not quite--"
"Yes, I know," he said sadly. "You see, I lack experience in such things.
Now, if Margaret--"
"Don't tell me you want to use her simply as a model," she began, with
another incipient gentle bristle.
"I want her as a model and a great many other things besides, dear
Lady Elspeth. I love Margaret Brandt with every atom of good that is in
me."
"And she?" with a nod and a sparkle.
"Ah! There now--that's what I don't know. She's not one to wear her
heart on her sleeve. At times I have dared to hope. Then again I have
feared--"