Her only answer was to throw her arms round his neck and burst into tears.
“Don’t make it harder for me, sweet,” he said.
“Do you think I can let you go now?
I love you.”
“How can I ask you to marry me?
The whole thing’s hopeless.
Your father would never let you.
I haven’t a cent.”
“What do I care?
I love you.”
He told her his plans.
He had to earn money at once, and George Braunschmidt, an old friend of his family, had offered to take him into his own business.
He was a South Sea merchant, and he had agencies in many of the islands of the Pacific.
He had suggested that Edward should go to Tahiti for a year or two, where under the best of his managers he could learn the details of that varied trade, and at the end of that time he promised the young man a position in Chicago.
It was a wonderful opportunity, and when he had finished his explanations Isabel was once more all smiles.
“You foolish boy, why have you been trying to make me miserable?”
His face lit up at her words and his eyes flashed.
“Isabel, you don’t mean to say you’ll wait for me?”
“Don’t you think you’re worth it?” she smiled.
“Ah, don’t laugh at me now.
I beseech you to be serious.
It may be for two years.”
“Have no fear.
I love you, Edward.
When you come back I will marry you.”
Edward’s employer was a man who did not like delay and he had told him that if he took the post he offered he must sail that day week from San Francisco.
Edward spent his last evening with Isabel.
It was after dinner that Mr Longstaffe, saying he wanted a word with Edward, took him into the smoking-room.
Mr Longstaffe had accepted good-naturedly the arrangement which his daughter had told him of and Edward could not imagine what mysterious communication he had now to make.
He was not a little perplexed to see that his host was embarrassed.
He faltered.
He talked of trivial things.
At last he blurted it out.
“I guess you’ve heard of Arnold Jackson,” he said, looking at Edward with a frown.
Edward hesitated.
His natural truthfulness obliged him to admit a knowledge he would gladly have been able to deny.
“Yes, I have.
But it’s a long time ago.
I guess I didn’t pay very much attention.”
“There are not many people in Chicago who haven’t heard of Arnold Jackson,” said Mr Longstaffe bitterly, “and if there are they’ll have no difficulty in finding someone who’ll be glad to tell them.
Did you know he was Mrs Longstaffe’s brother?”
“Yes, I knew that.”
“Of course we’ve had no communication with him for many years.
He left the country as soon as he was able to, and I guess the country wasn’t sorry to see the last of him.
We understand he lives in Tahiti.
My advice to you is to give him a wide berth, but if you do hear anything about him Mrs Longstaffe and I would be very glad if you’d let us know.”
“Sure.”
“That was all I wanted to say to you.
Now I daresay you’d like to join the ladies.”
There are few families that have not among their members one whom, if their neighbours permitted, they would willingly forget, and they are fortunate when the lapse of a generation or two has invested his vagaries with a romantic glamour.