Chapter VII: Mostly Possibilities

The Professor went into the garden feeling just a trifle uncomfortable. He not only loved his daughter dearly, but he also had a very deep and well-justified respect for her intellect and scholarly attainments. Her unfortunate love for a man whom he honestly believed to be a totally unfit mate for her was the only shadow that had ever drifted between them since she had become, not only his daughter, but his friend and companion, and the enthusiastic sharer of his intellectual pursuits. Of course, anything like a scene was utterly out of the question; but there is a silence more eloquent than words, and it was that that he was mostly afraid of.

He found her walking up and down the lawn with her hands behind her back. She was a little paler than usual, and there was a shadow in her eyes. She came towards him, and said quite quietly:

“Mr Merrill has been here, Dad, to say good-bye. I told him, and so we have said it.”

The simple words were spoken with a quiet and yet tender dignity which made him feel prouder than ever of his daughter and all the more sorry for her.

“I met him just outside the gate, Niti,” he replied, looking at her through a little mist in his eyes, “He spoke most honourably, and like the gentleman that he is. I hope you will believe me----”

“I believe you in everything, Dad,” she said quickly; “and since the matter is ended, it will only hurt us both to say any more about it. Now, I have some news,” she continued, in a tone whose alteration was well assumed.

“Ah! and what is that, Niti?” he asked, looking up at her with a smile of relief.

“It’s something that I hope you will be able to get some of your solemn fun out of. One of the items in the ‘Social Intelligence’ to-day states that your old friend, Professor Hoskins van Huysman, and his wife and daughter have come to London, and will stay ten days before ‘proceeding’ to Paris and the South of France, and so, of course, they will be here for your lecture, and naturally he will not resist the temptation of making one of your audience.”

“Van Huysman!” exclaimed the Professor. “That Yankee charlatan, confound him! I shouldn’t wonder if he had the impudence to take part in the discussion afterwards.”

“Then,” laughed Nitocris, “you must take care to have all your heavy guns ready for action. But, of course, Dad, you won’t let your--well, your scientific feelings get mixed up with social matters, will you? Because, you know, I like Brenda very much; she’s the prettiest and brightest girl I know. You know, she can do almost anything, and yet she’s as unaffected----”

“As some one else we know,” interrupted the Professor with another smile.

“And then, you know, Mrs van Huysman,” continued Nitocris with a little flush, “is such a dear, innocent, good-natured thing, so good-hearted and so deliciously American. Of course, you can fight with the Professor as much as you like in print, and in lecture halls--I know you both love it--but you’ll still be friends socially, won’t you?”

“Which, of course, means garden-parties and river trips, and similar frivolities that learned young ladies love so much. You needn’t trouble about that, Niti. I shall not allow my zeal for scientific truth to interfere with your social pleasures, you may be quite sure. Science, as you know, has nothing to do with what we call Society, except as one of the most curious phenomena of Sociology. Drive into town whenever you like and see them. Present my respectful compliments, and ask them to dinner, or whatever you like. And now I must get to my work--I’ve only three more days, and my notes are not anything like complete.”

“Very well, Dad; I think I’ll telephone them--they’re stopping at the Savoy--extravagant people!--to say that I’ll run in this afternoon and have tea. Oh! and, by the way,” she added, as he turned towards the house, “there’s another item. Lord Leighton has been called home suddenly on some business, and will be here the day after to-morrow.”

“Oh! indeed,” said the Professor, pausing. “Well, I shall be delighted to see him--but I don’t know what I shall have to say to him about that Mummy.”

Nitocris turned away towards her chair with a faint smile on her lips. With a woman’s rapid intuition, she had seen a glimmer of hope in the conjunction of these two announcements. Although Professor van Huysman’s personal fortune was not as great as his attainments or his fame, Brenda would be very rich, for her mother was the only sister of a widower whose sole interest and occupation in life was piling up dollars. He had dollars in everything, from pork and lumber to canned goods, and her own father’s scientific inventions, and Brenda was the bright particular star of his affections.

On the other hand, Lord Leighton, son and heir of the invalid Earl of Kyneston, was a fairly well-to-do young nobleman, good-looking, a scholar, and a good sportsman, who had done brilliantly at Cambridge, and then devoted himself to Egyptian exploration with a whole-souled ardour which had quickly won Professor Marmion’s heart, and a ready consent to his “trying his luck” with his daughter to boot. This had not a little to do with the present unfortunate condition of her own love affairs.

She had already refused Lord Leighton, letting him down, of course, as gently as possible, but withal firmly and uncompromisingly. Who could better console him than this beautiful and brilliant American girl, and what would better suit that lovely head of hers than an English coronet which was bright with the untarnished traditions of five hundred years?

Wherefore, then and there, Miss Nitocris Marmion, Bachelor of Science, Licentiate of Literature and Art, and Gold-Medallist in Higher Mathematics at the University of London, decided upon her first experiment in match-making.

When the Professor got into his study and shut the door, there was a curious smiling expression upon his refined, intellectual features. Instead of sitting down to his desk, he lit a pipe and began walking up and down the room, communing with his own soul in isolated sentences, as was his wont when he was trying to arrive at any difficult decision.