“Well,” replied Janet, seeing that he had finished, “granting that all you say is true, what of it?”
There was a silence, then Canby turned and spoke abruptly:
“Why don’t you adopt her?”
It was plain that his sister had not expected this.
“Adopt her!” she repeated in astonishment.
“Yes. You’re a widow, past forty, and you need someone; why not her? She’ll give you a new interest in life. As for her, she deserves something better than to sort candy and marry an Italian laborer. She’s too fine for that sort of thing. She would be a daughter to be proud of, with a little finishing. She would—”
He stopped short. His sister was laughing at him. There was real mirth in her laughter, too. He looked at her in amazement.
“What the deuce is so funny?” he demanded.
“Oh, my dear Fred!” The mirth subsided a little. “Men are really the stupidest creatures — that is, nice men like you. And yet, in this instance it is a little wonder.” She was suddenly serious. “Nella Somi is really an incredibly clever girl. She has taken you in, my dear. Don’t worry about her marrying any Italian laborer; she wasn’t made for that. You think her sweet and guileless and innocent. She may be innocent enough, but she certainly isn’t guileless. To put it vulgarly, she has dangled her bait before you — oh, with consummate art! — and you have swallowed it, hook and all.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Canby. “You women—”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Janet put in quickly. “I’m not condemning her. Under different circumstances I might be her friend, and admire her. I don’t say she’s bad. I do admire her. With good birth and a fortune she would be a remarkable woman; a valuable friend and a dangerous enemy. But — I don’t fancy her as a daughter. Perhaps I should apologize for not warning you, but it amused me so to watch her, and her moves were so perfectly executed, I hadn’t the heart; and besides, I really didn’t fear, for you’re an exceptional man. Anyway, now you know.”
“But you don’t really believe all that!” cried Canby. “Of Nella Somi?”
“My dear boy, it’s true.”
“Pardon me, it’s absurd. Why, Janet, she’s nothing but a child! You women, with your intuition and perspicuity, make me tired. It’s absurd! Why, I could tell you—”
“You needn’t tell me anything, Fred; I’ve seen it all. I haven’t anything against her. But to adopt her — hardly!”
And though Canby continued his protests, his sister was firm. Finally, permitting himself some acutely caustic remarks concerning suspicious women and the habit of judging others by one’s self, he perforce accepted her decision.
He was deeply annoyed, not so much by Janet’s refusal to act — she had a right to do as she chose — as by her stubborn injustice. Had he not studied Nella Somi for two weeks — her simplicity of thought, her disinterestedness, her girlish friendship, her absolute avoidance of the sort of feminine wiles he had grown to detest? He told himself that he understood his sister well enough; she had lived so long in the atmosphere of artificiality, that she was unable to recognize natural and divine charm, direct and unadorned, when she saw it. So much the worse for her, he reflected scornfully. But what of his generous intentions for Nella’s future, thus so unexpectedly balked?
He went out and sat on the piazza with his feet on the rail — an attitude which Janet detested. He hoped she would see him. For more than two hours he sat there, and when Rose and Nella came downstairs, having finished their packing, and were later joined by Mildred and their hostess, he merely nodded without turning his head. About ten minutes before dinnertime he suddenly leaped to his feet, and, without paying attention to the others’ inquiring glances, he went to the garage, jumped into his roadster and was off. He covered the fifteen miles to Greenhedge in a few seconds less than a quarter of an hour, dined with his friend Linwood, and had an extended talk with his housekeeper.
By eight o’clock he was back again at Roselawn. They were surprised to see him, and Janet had something to say about his running off at dinnertime. All the reply her brother vouchsafed her was a meaningless and rather impolite grunt. Without preamble, he asked Nella Somi if she would go out on the river with him. The girl turned to her hostess with a look of inquiry.
Janet glanced at her brother with an expression of mingled amusement and disapproval, then turned to the girl and said drily:
“By all means go, my dear, if you wish.”
It was a starry, moonless night, and the river was smooth as glass, with no tide or wind to disturb its surface. In silence Canby and Nella had walked side by side through the park, and neither spoke as, reaching the boathouse, the skiff was untied and they shoved off. Instead of pulling for midstream Canby allowed the craft to float idly down with the current, now and then swinging her out a little to clear some obstruction near the bank. The stars gave just sufficient light for him to make out Nella’s features as she sat motionless on the seat near the stern with a dark mantle around her shoulders, bareheaded.
“I suppose you’re all packed ready to go,” said Canby at last, breaking a long silence.
Nella nodded her head, then, reflecting that he might not see her in the darkness, pronounced the word, “Yes.”
“The two weeks have gone swiftly,” Canby resumed after a moment; “that is, swiftly for me. I have thought sometimes that you and Rose and Mildred found it rather tiresome with no young people around.”
There was a short silence; then he was somewhat surprised to hear a gay little silvery laugh from her.
“Now you’re looking for a compliment, Mr. Canby,” she declared, with the laugh still in her voice. “All right, I don’t mind. We haven’t found it tiresome one minute, because you’ve been so good to us. We like old people.”
“But you’re glad to go back?”
“My goodness, no!” He had the impression of a flash from the blue eyes, though he could not have seen it in the darkness. “I guess you don’t know much about girls, Mr. Canby, if you think there is anyone who would be glad to leave all this—” she waved her hand toward Roselawn — “for a — for down there. That wouldn’t be natural. But — well, I don’t cry about it. I’ve got to go, and I go, and I’ll make the best of it. I believe Rose and Mildred mind it more than I do. Ma petite, sois philosophe. That’s what my mother used to say. You see, I am.”
A silence. Ahead there was a protuberance on the bank, and Canby pulled sharply on the starboard oar to clear it. They floated past.
“Would you like to stay?” asked Canby suddenly.
“Stay here?”
“Yes. Not at Roselawn. But I— For several days I’ve had an idea... Of course, you know I like you, Nella. In these two weeks I’ve grown fond of you; so, really, what I have to propose is more selfish than it is generous, but I think of you too. You deserve something better than the life you have been forced into by circumstances. I wanted my sister to adopt you, but she had made plans that rendered it impossible. So I thought — I wonder if you’d care to come and live with me?”
Without giving her time to reply he went on hastily:
“I mean, of course, as my ward. I could be appointed your legal guardian. Later, if we thought it advisable, I could adopt you and give you my name — that is, I don’t know if bachelors can have adopted daughters, though I don’t see why not. I assure you I’m not a difficult fellow to get along with...”