“Perhaps you think mine was not worth yours.”
“It was worth anybody’s!”
Her hand was plashing in the little waterfall, and her eyes were bent the same way.
“You talk about my severity with you, Elfride. You are unkind to me, you know.”
“How?” she asked, looking up from her idle occupation.
“After my taking trouble to get jewellery to please you, you wouldn’t accept it.”
“Perhaps I would now; perhaps I want to.”
“Do!” said Knight.
And the packet was withdrawn from his pocket and presented the third time. Elfride took it with delight. The obstacle was rent in twain, and the significant gift was hers.
“I’ll take out these ugly ones at once,” she exclaimed, “and I’ll wear yours—shall I?”
“I should be gratified.”
Now, though it may seem unlikely, considering how far the two had gone in converse, Knight had never yet ventured to kiss Elfride. Far slower was he than Stephen Smith in matters like that. The utmost advance he had made in such demonstrations had been to the degree witnessed by Stephen in the summerhouse. So Elfride’s cheek being still forbidden fruit to him, he said impulsively.
“Elfie, I should like to touch that seductive ear of yours. Those are my gifts; so let me dress you in them.”
She hesitated with a stimulating hesitation.
“Let me put just one in its place, then?”
Her face grew much warmer.
“I don’t think it would be quite the usual or proper course,” she said, suddenly turning and resuming her operation of plashing in the miniature cataract.
The stillness of things was disturbed by a bird coming to the streamlet to drink. After watching him dip his bill, sprinkle himself, and fly into a tree, Knight replied, with the courteous brusqueness she so much liked to hear—
“Elfride, now you may as well be fair. You would mind my doing it but little, I think; so give me leave, do.”
“I will be fair, then,” she said confidingly, and looking him full in the face. It was a particular pleasure to her to be able to do a little honesty without fear. “I should not mind your doing so—I should like such an attention. My thought was, would it be right to let you?”
“Then I will!” he rejoined, with that singular earnestness about a small matter—in the eyes of a ladies’ man but a momentary peg for flirtation or jest—which is only found in deep natures who have been wholly unused to toying with womankind, and which, from its unwontedness, is in itself a tribute the most precious that can be rendered, and homage the most exquisite to be received.
“And you shall,” she whispered, without reserve, and no longer mistress of the ceremonies. And then Elfride inclined herself towards him, thrust back her hair, and poised her head sideways. In doing this her arm and shoulder necessarily rested against his breast.
At the touch, the sensation of both seemed to be concentrated at the point of contact. All the time he was performing the delicate manoeuvre Knight trembled like a young surgeon in his first operation.
“Now the other,” said Knight in a whisper.
“No, no.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You must know.”
“Your touch agitates me so. Let us go home.”
“Don’t say that, Elfride. What is it, after all? A mere nothing. Now turn round, dearest.”
She was powerless to disobey, and turned forthwith; and then, without any defined intention in either’s mind, his face and hers drew closer together; and he supported her there, and kissed her.
Knight was at once the most ardent and the coolest man alive. When his emotions slumbered he appeared almost phlegmatic; when they were moved he was no less than passionate. And now, without having quite intended an early marriage, he put the question plainly. It came with all the ardour which was the accumulation of long years behind a natural reserve.
“Elfride, when shall we be married?”
The words were sweet to her; but there was a bitter in the sweet. These newly-overt acts of his, which had culminated in this plain question, coming on the very day of Mrs. Jethway’s blasting reproaches, painted distinctly her fickleness as an enormity. Loving him in secret had not seemed such thoroughgoing inconstancy as the same love recognized and acted upon in the face of threats. Her distraction was interpreted by him at her side as the outward signs of an unwonted experience.
“I don’t press you for an answer now, darling,” he said, seeing she was not likely to give a lucid reply. “Take your time.”
Knight was as honourable a man as was ever loved and deluded by woman. It may be said that his blindness in love proved the point, for shrewdness in love usually goes with meanness in general. Once the passion had mastered him, the intellect had gone for naught. Knight, as a lover, was more single-minded and far simpler than his friend Stephen, who in other capacities was shallow beside him.
Without saying more on the subject of their marriage, Knight held her at arm’s length, as if she had been a large bouquet, and looked at her with critical affection.
“Does your pretty gift become me?” she inquired, with tears of excitement on the fringes of her eyes.
“Undoubtedly, perfectly!” said her lover, adopting a lighter tone to put her at her ease. “Ah, you should see them; you look shinier than ever. Fancy that I have been able to improve you!”
“Am I really so nice? I am glad for your sake. I wish I could see myself.”
“You can’t. You must wait till we get home.”
“I shall never be able,” she said, laughing. “Look: here’s a way.”
“So there is. Well done, woman’s wit!”
“Hold me steady!”
“Oh yes.”
“And don’t let me fall, will you?”
“By no means.”
Below their seat the thread of water paused to spread out into a smooth small pool. Knight supported her whilst she knelt down and leant over it.
“I can
