A Millionaire of Yesterday [49]
She laughed softly, and took off her hat, straightening the wavy brown hair, which had escaped bounds a little, in front of the mirror. She looked at herself long and thoughtfully at the delicately cut but strong features, the clear, grey eyes and finely arched eyebrows, the curving, humorous mouth and dainty chin. Davenant regarded her in amazement.
"Why, Ernestine," he exclaimed, "are you taking stock of your good looks?"
"Precisely what I am doing," she answered laughing. "At that moment I was wondering whether I possessed any."
"If you will allow me,' he said, "to take the place of the mirror, I think that I could give you any assurances you required."
She shook her head.
"You might be more flattering," she said, "but you would be less faithful."
He remained standing upon the hearthrug. Ernestine returned to the mirror.
"May I know," he asked, "for whose sake is this sudden anxiety about your appearance?"
She turned away and sat in a low chair, her hands clasped behind her head, her eyes fixed upon vacancy.
"I have been wondering," she said, "whether if I set myself to it as to a task I could make a man for a moment forget himself - did I say forget? - I mean betray!"
"If I were that man," he remarked smiling, "I will answer for it that you could."
"You! But then you are only a boy, you have nothing to conceal, and you are partial to me, aren't you? No, the man whom I want to influence is a very different sort of person. It is Scarlett Trent."
He frowned heavily. "A boor," he said. "What have you to do with him? The less the better I should say."
"And from my point of view, the more the better," she answered. "I have come to believe that but for him my father would be alive to-day."
"I do not understand! If you believe that, surely you do not wish to see the man - to have him come near you!"
"I want him punished!"
He shook his head. "There is no proof. There never could be any proof!"
"There are many ways," she said softly, "in which a man can be made to suffer."
"And you would set yourself to do this?"
"Why not? Is not anything better than letting him go scot-free? Would you have me sit still and watch him blossom into a millionaire peer, a man of society, drinking deep draughts of all the joys of life, with never a thought for the man he left to rot in an African jungle? Oh, any way of punishing him is better than that. I have declared war against Scarlett Trent."
"How long," he asked, "will it last?"
"Until he is in my power," she answered slowly. "Until he has fallen back again to the ruck. Until he has tasted a little of the misery from which at least he might have saved my father!"
"I think," he said, "that you are taking a great deal too much for granted. I do not know Scarlett Trent, and I frankly admit that I am prejudiced against him and all his class. Yet I think that he deserves his chance, like any man. Go to him and ask him, face to face, how your father died, declare yourself, press for all particulars, seek even for corroboration of his word. Treat him if you will as an enemy, but as an honourable one!"
She shook her head.
"The man," she said, "has all the plausibility of his class. He has learned it in the money school, where these things become an art. He believes himself secure - he is even now seeking for me. He is all prepared with his story. No, my way is best."
"I do not like your way," he said. "It is not like you, Ernestine."
"For the sake of those whom one loves," she said, "one will do much that one hates. When I think that but for this man my father might still have been alive, might have lived to know how much I loathed those who sent him into exile - well, I feel then that there is nothing in the world I would not do to crush him!"
He rose to his feet - his fresh, rather boyish, face was wrinkled with care.
"I shall live to be sorry, Ernestine," he said, "that I ever told you the truth about your father."
"If I had discovered it for myself," she said, "and, sooner or later,