bruised me to the bone!”
Swift amusement suddenly softened his eyes; he exclaimed: “Oh, Kate, you dear rogue!
“Very likely it won’t be visible until tomorrow,” she said, with a dignity—that admirably concealed the intense pleasure she felt at being called a dear rogue.
“And still more likely that it will never become visible!” he retorted, advancing upon her, and possessing himself of both her hands, and holding them in a strong clasp. “Stop bantering me, and tell me the truth! Did Torquil, in fact, try to shoot you?”
“Good God, no! Of course he didn’t!” she replied. “He tried to shoot a dog, and missed both the dog and me, for which I am heartily thankful! He’s not fit to be trusted with guns, as I told him! I was in such a rage! But how did Pennymore know of it? He wasn’t there! No one was there, except Badger, and, later, Dr Delabole!”
“One of the stable-hands saw you from the avenue, and was trying to summon up the pluck to dash to your help—or so he says—when the appearance of Badger on the scene relieved him of the necessity to show his mettle. The story had reached Pennymore’s ears by the time you went to bed.”
“Grossly exaggerated, I make no doubt!”
“Very likely. Is it true that Torquil threatened to shoot Badger?”
“With an empty gun! He was only trying to frighten Badger! He gave the gun up to me the instant I told him to do so, and I promise you there is no need for you to be cast into high fidgets!”
“On the contrary, there is a very urgent need!” he said. “Kate, let me take you away from this place!” His clasp tightened on her hands. “It isn’t safe for you to remain here, believe me!” He looked down into her upturned face, and deep into her eyes, his own glowing with a light which made her pulses jump. “You
“Oh, nothing, nothing!” she sobbed. “Only I thought—I was afraid—that you might be regretting it! And although I think you
His eyes laughed, but his voice was perfectly grave as he replied: “You are very right! I
She gave a rather watery giggle, and subsided again on to his chest. “Don’t make game of me! You know very well what I mean! What would all your relations think?”
“Of course! That is a serious consideration. I wonder why it should not have occurred to me?” he said, apparently much struck. “Could it have been because what they think doesn’t seem to me to be of consequence?”
“It is of consequence to me,” she said, into his coat.
“Is it? Then there’s only one thing for it! We must be married privately, by special licence!”
“Oh, Philip, as though that would make it any better! Do, do be serious!”
“I am being serious, little wet-goose. I am determined to remove you from Staplewood as soon as may be possible; and since neither of us, I hope, is so lost to all sense of propriety as to consider a flight to the Border to be pardonable in any but extremely ramshackle persons—what one might call the baggagery, you know!—I believe my best course will be to convey you to London, to the protection of your nurse, for just so long as it will take me to procure the special licence, and to send an express to my steward, telling him to make all ready for our homecoming. After which, I mean to carry you off to Broome Hall immediately. Oh, Kate, my dear love, you don’t know how much I long to see you there! Or how much I hope that you will like it!”
“I am very sure I shall,” she replied, with simple conviction. “But it would be quite as ramshackle for me to run away to London with you immediately as to fly with you to the Border, my dear! Consider! Surely you could not wish me to behave with such a want of conduct—so ungratefully? Every feeling must be offended!”
“You have no cause to be grateful to Minerva!”
“Oh, yes, I have!” she said, smiling mischievously up at him. “If she hadn’t brought me here I should never have met you, my dear one!”
His arms tightened round her until she felt her ribs to be in danger of cracking, but he said unsteadily: “That was not her object, you artful little Sophist!”
“No, far from it! What was that you called me?”
“A Sophist, my love—an artful one!”
“What does it mean?” she asked suspiciously.
“One who reasons in a specious way!” he answered, laughing at her.
“Oh, I don’t!” she said indignantly. “How can you be so uncivil?”
“I am not on ceremony with you!” he retorted.
“No, so I collect!” she said, gently disengaging herself. “We must discuss this, you know—and without prejudice, if you please! Come and sit down! We shan’t be disturbed: Torquil and Dr Delabole are going to Market Harborough, and you know my aunt is unwell, don’t you? Which is one of my reasons for not dashing away to London in such an unseemly fashion—as though she had been ill-using me, and I had seized the chance offered by her illness to escape! You should know what sort of gossip that would give rise to! Could anything be more unjust? Whatever her motive was in inviting me here, I have received nothing but kindness from her, and I will not leave Staplewood in such haste as must astonish all those who know that I had the intention of remaining here until the end of the summer, and lead to conjectures which might reflect on me, you know, and that you wouldn’t like!”
It was evident, from the arrested expression on his face, that this possibility had not occurred to him. He said emphatically: “No!”
“Of course you wouldn’t! As a matter of fact, I shouldn’t like it myself. I wish you will not stand there frowning down at me! It puts me in a terrible quake!”
He smiled, and came to sit beside her on the sofa, saying: “Fibster!”
“Not at all! You wouldn’t believe how pudding-hearted I can be!”
“No, that’s true: I wouldn’t! If you were pudding-hearted you wouldn’t remain here!”
I’m not afraid of Torquil,” she said quietly, “but I promise you I dread telling my aunt that I am going to marry you, Philip. I must do so: to go away without telling her would be very much too shabby, don’t you agree?”
“You may leave it to me to tell her!”
“On no account! That would not only be rag-mannered, but it would make it seem as if my conscience was shockingly guilty. It will be your task to break the news to Sir Timothy.”
“That’s easy! I mean to do so at once, and I have a strong notion that he will be pleased.”
“I hope he will be. He invited me to dine with him yesterday, and—and he did me the honour to say that he liked me, and would have wished a daughter to have grown up to resemble me. And I think he was perfectly sincere, because he warned me not to let myself be bullied or cajoled into doing what my heart, and what he called my good sense, told me was wrong. I believe that he did so out of affection, and I know that he shrank from the task. Well, he warned me that I was deceiving myself if I supposed that my aunt had brought me to live with her out of compassion. He said that although he didn’t know what it might be he did know that she must have had a motive—and to say that of her must have been excessively distasteful to him.”
He had listened intently to her, an expression of gathering surprise in his face, and he exclaimed: “Then he must indeed hold you in affection! I believed I enjoyed as much of his confidence as anyone, but he wouldn’t have been so frank in talking to me. I have sometimes wondered whether he is frank with himself—allows himself to take notice of what is unpleasant. It is painful to see how much he shrinks from facing anything that—oh, that must disturb his peace! He was not always so, Kate! If you had known him when my Aunt Anne was alive—in the days of his happiness!—I suppose his can never have been a strong character, but—but even though I can’t now
She was a good deal moved, and checked him, laying a hand over his hard-clenched ones, and saying gently: “I do understand. I have seen what you describe: his character is not strong, but he is very lovable. I have loved him almost from the moment of first seeing him, and I can readily understand what
