Oh, Money! Money! Part 46

"Sort of a--nonent.i.ty, perhaps." Mr. Smith's lips snapped tight shut.

Miss Maggie laughed softly.

"Perhaps--though I suppose he couldn't really be that--not very well--with twenty millions, could he? But I mean, he wasn't very bad, nor very good. He didn't seem to be dissipated, or mixed up in any scandal, or to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On the other hand, I couldn't find that he'd done any particular good in the world. Some charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory, apparently, and I don't believe, from the accounts, that he ever really INTERESTED himself in any one--that he ever really cared for--any one."

"Oh, you don't!" If Miss Maggie had looked up, she would have met a most disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But Miss Maggie did not look up.

"No," she proceeded calmly. "Why, he didn't even have a wife and children to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, of course, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I can imagine his tossing them aside with a languid 'Fix them up, James,--give the creatures what they want, only don't bother me.'"

"He NEVER did!" stormed Mr. Smith; then, hastily: "I'm sure he never did. You wrong him. I'm sure you wrong him."

"Maybe I do," sighed Miss Maggie. "But when I think of what he might do--Twenty millions! I can't grasp it. Can you? But he didn't do--anything--worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he was living, so that's why I can't imagine what his will may be. Probably the same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law firm instead of 'James' as disburser--unless, of course, Hattie's expectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdells here."

"You think--there's something worth while he MIGHT have done with those millions, then?" pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar wistfulness in his eyes.

"Something he MIGHT have done with them!" exclaimed Miss Maggie. "Why, it seems to me there's no end to what he might have done--with twenty millions."

"What would YOU do?"

"I?--do with twenty millions?" she breathed.

"Yes, you." Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion. "Miss Maggie, if a man with twenty millions--that is, could you love a man with twenty millions, if--if Mr. Fulton should ask you--if _I_ were Mr.

Fulton--if--" His countenance changed suddenly. He drew himself up with a cry of dismay. "Oh, no--no--I've spoiled it all now. That isn't what I meant to say first. I was going to find out--I mean, I was going to tell--Oh, good Heavens, what a--That confounded money--again!"

Miss Maggie sprang to her feet.

"Why, Mr. Smith, w-what--" Only the crisp shutting of the door answered her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.

Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own image in the mirror.

"Well, now you've done it, Maggie Duff," she whispered wrathfully to the reflection in the gla.s.s. "And you've broken his heart! He was--was going to say something--I know he was. And you? You've talked money, money, MONEY to him for an hour. You said you LOVED money; and you told what you'd do--if you had twenty millions of dollars. And you know--you KNOW he's as poor as Job's turkey, and that just now he's more than ever plagued over--money! And yet you--Twenty millions of dollars! As if that counted against--"

With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands and sat down, helplessly, angrily.

CHAPTER XXIII

REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE

Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.

Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance, caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a furtive, angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to rearranging the vases and photographs on the mantel.

"Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?" she greeted him, with studied unconcern.

Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.

"Miss Maggie, I've got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I had--made a botch of things at the very start, it didn't help any to--to run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only because I--I--But never mind that. I'm coming now straight to the point. Miss Maggie, will you--marry me?"

The photograph in Miss Maggie's hand fell face down on the shelf. Miss Maggie's fingers caught the edge of the mantel in a convulsive grip. A swift glance in the mirror before her disclosed Mr. Smith's face just over her shoulder, earnest, pleading, and still very white. She dropped her gaze, and turned half away. She did not want to meet Mr. Smith's eyes just then. She tried to speak, but only a half-choking little breath came.

Then Mr. Smith spoke again.

"Miss Maggie, please don't say no--yet. Let me--explain--about how I came here, and all that. But first, before I do that, let me tell you how--how I love you--how I have loved you all these long months. I THINK I loved you from the first time I saw you. Whatever comes, I want you to know that. And if you could care for me a little--just a little, I'm sure I could make it more--in time, so you would marry me. And we would be so happy! Don't you believe I'd try to make you happy--dear?"

"Yes, oh, yes," murmured Miss Maggie, still with her head turned away.

"Good! Then all you've got to say is that you'll let me try. And we will be happy, dear! Why, until I came here to this little house, I didn't know what living, real living, was. And I HAVE been, just as you said, a selfish old thing."

Miss Maggie, with a start of surprise, faced the image in the mirror; but Mr. Smith was looking at her, not at her reflection, so she did not meet his ayes.

"Why, I never--" she stammered.

"Yes, you did, a minute ago. Don't you remember? Oh, of course you didn't realize--everything, and perhaps you wouldn't have said it if you'd known. But you said it--and you meant it, and I'm glad you said it. And, dear little woman, don't you see? That's only another reason why you should say yes. You can show me how not to be selfish."

"But, Mr. Smith, I--I-" stammered Miss Maggie, still with puzzled eyes.

"Yes, you can. You can show me how to make life really worth while, for me, and for--for lots of others And NOW I have some one to care for.

And, oh, little woman, I--I care so much, it can't be that you--. you don't care--any!"

Miss Maggie caught her breath and turned away again.

"Don't you care--a little?"

The red crept up Miss Maggie's neck to her forehead but still she was silent.

"If I could only see your eyes," pleaded the man. Then, suddenly, he saw Miss Maggie's face in the mirror. The next moment Miss Maggie herself turned a little, and in the mirror their eyes met--and in the mirror Mr. Smith found his answer. "You DO care--a LITTLE!" he breathed, as he took her in his arms.

"But I don't!" Miss Maggie shook her head vigorously against his coat-collar.

"What?" Mr. Smith's clasp loosened a little.

"I care--a GREAT DEAL," whispered Miss Maggie to the coat-collar, with shameless emphasis.

"You--darling!" triumphed the man, bestowing a rapturous kiss on the tip of a small pink ear--the nearest point to Miss Maggie's lips that was available, until, with tender determination, he turned her face to his.

A moment later, blus.h.i.+ng rosily, Miss Maggie drew herself away.

"There, we've been quite silly enough--old folks like us."

"We're not silly. Love is never silly-not real love like ours. Besides, we're only as old as we feel. Do you feel old? I don't. I've lost--YEARS since this morning. And you know I'm just beginning to live--really live, anyway! I feel--twenty-one."

"I'm afraid you act it," said Miss Maggie, with mock severity.

"YOU would--if you'd been through what _I_ have," retorted Mr. Smith, drawing a long breath. "And when I think what a botch I made of it, to begin with--You see, I didn't mean to start off with that, first thing; and I was so afraid that--that even if you did care for John Smith, you wouldn't for me--just at first. But you do, dear!" At arms' length he held her off, his hands on her shoulders. His happy eyes searching her face saw the dawn of the dazed, question.