The Independence of Claire | Page 9

it goes too deep for anyone to be able to do that. But you
can rub off the bloom. Don't do it, Claire! Be generous. Be yourself.
Wish us good luck!"
"Wish who good luck? What, oh, what are you talking about?" Claire
was gasping now, quivering with a frenzy of excitement. Robert Judge
stared in return, his face full of an honest bewilderment.
"Of our engagement, of course. Your mother's engagement to me. I
have been talking about it all the time!"
Then Claire threw up both her hands, and burst into a wild peal of
laughter. Peal after peal rang out into the air, she rocked to and fro on
her seat, her eyes disappeared from view, her teeth shone, her little feet
in their dainty French shoes danced upon the ground; she laughed till
the tears poured down her cheeks, and her gloved hands pressed against
her side where a "stitch" was uncomfortably making itself felt. Stout
Belgian couples passing past the end of the avenue, looked on with
indulgent smiles, a little shocked at so much demonstration in public,
but relieved to perceive that une Anglaise could laugh with such
abandon. Monsieur they observed looked not sympathetic. Monsieur
had an air injured, annoyed, on his dignity. On his cheeks was a flush,
as of wounded pride. When at length the paroxysm showed signs of

lessening, he spoke in cold stilted tones.
"You appear to find it ridiculous. It seems to amuse you very much. I
may say that to us it is a serious matter!"
"Oh no! You don't understand--you don't understand!" gasped Claire
feebly. "I am not laughing at you. I'm laughing at myself. Oh, Mr Judge,
you'll never guess, it's too screamingly funny for words. I thought all
this time, from the very beginning I thought, it was me!"
"You thought it was--you thought I wanted--that I was talking of--that I
meant to propose to--"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Me! Me! Me! Of course I did. I've been thinking it for
weeks. Everyone thought so. They've teased me to death. You were
attentive to me, you know you were. You were always giving me
things ..."
"Well, of course!" Poor Mr Judge defended himself with honest
indignation. "What else could I do? I could not give them to her! And I
wanted--naturally I wanted, to get you on my side. You were the
difficulty. I knew that if she had only herself to consider I could win
her round, but if you ranged yourself against me, it would be a hard
fight. Naturally I tried to ingratiate myself. It appears that I have rather
overdone the part, but I can't flatter myself," his eyes twinkled
mischievously, "that I've been too successful! You don't appear exactly
overcome with disappointment!"
They laughed together, but only for a moment. Then he was serious
again, appealing to her in earnest tones.
"You won't range yourself against me, Claire? You won't dissuade
her.-- I love her very dearly, and I know I can make her happy. You
won't make it hard for us?"
"Indeed, I won't! Why should I?" Claire cried heartily. "I'm only too
thankful. Mother needs someone to look after her, and I'd sooner you
did it than anyone else. I like you awfully--always did, until I began to

be afraid--I didn't want to marry you myself, but if mother does, I think
it's a splendid thing."
"Thank you, dear, thank you a thousand times. That's a great relief."
Robert Judge stretched himself with a deep breath of satisfaction. Then
he grew confidential, reviewing the past with true lover-like enjoyment.
"I fell in love with her that first afternoon at the tennis club. Thought
Bridges introduced her as Miss Gifford, put her down at twenty- five,
and hoped she wouldn't think me a hopeless old fogey. Never had such
a surprise in my life as when she introduced you. Thought for a time I
should have to give it up. Then she asked my advice on one or two
business matters, and I discovered--" He hesitated, flushing
uncomfortably, and Claire finished the sentence.
"That we are coming to the end of our resources?"
Mr Judge nodded.
"And so, of course," he continued simply, "that settled it. I couldn't go
away and leave her to face a struggle. I was jolly thankful to feel that I
had met her in time."
"I think you are a dear, good man. I think mother is very lucky. Thank
you so much for being my step-papa!" cried Claire, her grey eyes
softening with a charming friendliness as they dwelt on the man's
honest face, and he took her hand in his, and squeezed it with
affectionate ardour.
"Thank you, my dear. Thank you! I shall be jolly proud of having such
a pretty daughter.