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"But"--Lady Gore checked herself on the verge of saying, "I don't think he has," as she suddenly realised what image was called up by the mention of Rachel's possible husband--"but she might marry some one who hasn't," she ended lamely.
"Oh dear me, yes," said Sir William, "there is time enough for that; she is very young after all."
"She is twenty-two," said Lady Gore. "Perhaps that is young in these days when women don't seem to marry until they are nearly thirty. But I don't think it is a good plan to wait so long."
"I don't think it's a bad one," said Sir William; "they know their own minds at any rate."
"They have known half a dozen of their own minds," said Lady Gore. "I think it is much better for a girl to marry before she knows that there is an alternative to the mind she has got, such as it is."
Sir William smiled, but did not think it worth while to argue the point.
It was not his province, but her mother's, to guide Rachel's career, and he was content to remain in comfortable ignorance of the complications of the female heart of a younger generation. However, he was not allowed to remain in that detached att.i.tude, for Lady Gore, with the subject uppermost in her mind preoccupying her to the exclusion of everything else, could not help adding, "You often see Mr. Rendel at parties, when you and Rachel go out, I mean?"
"Rendel? Yes," said Gore indifferently. "Why?"
Lady Gore did not explain. "I like him," she said.
"Oh yes, so do I," said Gore, without enthusiasm. "I don't agree with him, of course. I asked him one day what his Chief was about, and told him he ought to put the brake on."
"Did he seem pleased at that?" said Lady Gore, smiling.
"He will have to hear it, I'm afraid," said Gore, "whether it pleases him or not."
"I must say," said Lady Gore, "I can't help admiring Lord Stamfordham. I do like a man who is strong, and this man is head and shoulders above other people."
"Head and shoulders above little people perhaps," said Sir William.
"Mr. Rendel says that when once one is caught up in Lord Stamfordham's train, it is impossible not to follow him."
"Rendel!" said Sir William. "Oh, of course, if you're going to listen to what Stamfordham's hangers-on say...."
"Oh, William, please!" said Lady Gore. "Don't say that sort of thing about Mr. Rendel."
"Why?" said Sir William, amazed. "Why am I to speak of Rendel with bated breath?"
"Because ... suppose--suppose he were to be your son-in-law some day?"
"Oh," said Sir William, staring at her, "is that what you are thinking of?"
"Mind--mind you don't say it," cried Lady Gore.
"_I_ shan't say it, certainly," cried Sir William, still bewildered; "but has he said it? That's more to the point."
"He hasn't yet," she admitted.
"Well, he never struck me in that light, I must say," said Sir William.
"I always thought it was you he adored."
"_Cela n'empeche pas_," said Lady Gore, laughing.
"I daresay he would do very well," said Sir William, who, as he further considered the question, was by no means insensible to the advantages of the suggestion put before him; "it is only his politics that are against him."
"I am afraid," said Lady Gore, "that Rachel would always think her father knew best."
"Afraid!" said Sir William, "what more would you have?"
"My dear William," said his wife, smiling at him, "she might think her husband knew best, that is what some people do."
"Quite right," said Sir William, looking at her fondly, but believing with entire conviction in the truth of what he was lightly saying.
At this moment the door opened and a footman came in.
"Young Mr. Anderson is downstairs, Sir William."
"Young Mr. Anderson?" said Sir William, looking at him with some surprise.
"Yes, Sir William--Mr. Fred," the man replied, evidently somewhat doubtful as to whether he was right in using the honorific.
"Fred Anderson back again!" said Sir William to his wife. "All right, James, I'll come directly." "I wonder if his rus.h.i.+ng back to England so soon," he said, as the door closed upon the servant, "means that that boy has come to grief."
"Let us hope that it means the reverse," said his wife, "and that he has come back to ask you to be chairman of his company--as you promised, do you remember, when he went away?"
"So I did, yes, to be sure," said Sir William, laughing at the recollection. "Upon my word, that lad won't fail for want of a.s.surance.
We shall see what he has got to say." And he went out.
The Andersons had been small farmers on the Gore estate for some generations. Fred Anderson, the second son of the present farmer, a youth of energy and enterprise, had determined to seek his fortune further afield. Mainly by the kind offices of the Gores, he had been started in life as a mining engineer, and had, eighteen months before his present reappearance, been sent with some others to examine and report on a large mine lately discovered on British territory near the Equator. The result of their investigations proved that it was actually and most unexpectedly a gold mine, promising untold treasure, but at the same time, from its geographical situation, almost valueless, since it was so far from any lines of communication as to make the working of it practically impossible. The young, however, are sanguine; undaunted by difficulties, Fred Anderson, in spite of the discouragement and dropping off of his companions, remained full of faith in the future of the mine, and of something turning up which would make it possible to work it; in fact, he had actually gone so far as to obtain for himself a grant of the mining rights from the British Government. It was for this purpose that, giving a brief outline of the situation, he had written to Sir William some time before to ask him for the sum necessary to obtain the concession. Sir William had advanced it to him. It was when, two years before, the boy of nineteen was leaving home for the first time that he had half jestingly asked Sir William whether, if he and his companions found a gold mine and started a company to work it, he would be their chairman, and Sir William, to whom it had seemed about as likely that Fred Anderson would become Prime Minister as succeed in such an undertaking, had given him his hand on the bargain.
"Well, my boy," said Sir William, and the very sound of his voice seemed to Fred Anderson to put him back two years--the two years that appeared to him to contain his life. "How is it you have hurried back to England so quickly?"
"I will tell you all about it, Sir William," said the boy. "I thought it best to come over and get everything into shape myself."
"You seem to be embarking on very adventurous schemes," said Sir William, feeling as he looked at the boy's bright, open face, full of alert intelligence, that it was not impossible that the schemes might be carried through.
"I think you will say so, sir, when you have heard what I have to tell you," said Anderson, resolutely keeping down his excitement in a way that boded well for his powers of self-control.
"I shall be much interested," said Sir William. "Now, what about those mining rights? Do I understand that you are the proprietor of a mine on the Equator, a thousand miles from anywhere?"
"Yes, and no," said Anderson. "At least, yes to the first question; no to the second."
"What," said Sir William, still speaking lightly, "has the mine come nearer since we first heard of it?"
"Yes, practically it has," said Anderson, looking Gore in the face.
Then, unrolling the paper which he held in his hand and rolling it the other way that it might remain open, he laid it carefully out on the table before Sir William. "I have brought you the map with all the indications on it, that you may see for yourself." Sir William adjusted an eyegla.s.s and bent over the map, roused to more curiosity than he showed.
"This," said the young man, pointing to a large tract in pink, "is British territory; that is Uganda; here is the Congo Free State. There, you see, are the Germans where the map is marked in orange. There is the Equator, and _there_ is the mine. Look, marked in blue."
"That is a pretty G.o.d-forsaken place, I must say," remarked Sir William.
"One moment," said Fred. "That thin, dotted ink line running north and south from the top of Africa to the bottom is the Cape to Cairo Railway, of which the route has now been determined on, and this," with a ringing accent of triumph, bringing his hand down on to the map, "is the place where the railway will pa.s.s within a few miles of us."