It was the afternoon of Easter Day, and a marvellous peace lay upon all things.
Maurice Brandon, a look of supreme boredom on his handsome face, had just sauntered down to the river bank. A belt of daffodils nodded to him from the shrubbery on the farther shore. He stood and stared at them absently while he idly smoked a cigarette.
Finally, after a long and quite unprofitable inspection, he turned aside to investigate a boathouse under the willows on Mrs. Lockyard's side of the stream. He found the door unlocked, and discovered within a somewhat dilapidated punt. This, after considerable exertion, he managed to drag forth and finally to run into the water. The craft seemed seaworthy, and he proceeded to forage for a punt-pole.
Fully equipped at length, he stepped on board and poled himself out from the shore. Arrived at the farther bank, he calmly disembarked and tied up under the willows. He paused a few seconds to light another cigarette, then turned from the river and sauntered up the path between the high box hedges.
The garden was deserted, and he pursued his way unmolested till he came within sight of the house. Here for the first time he stopped to take deliberate stock of his surroundings. Standing in the shelter of a giant rhododendron, he saw two figures emerge and walk along the narrow gravelled terrace before the house. As he watched, they reached the farther end and turned. He recognized them both. They were Caryl and his host Abingdon.
For a few moments they stood talking, then went away together round an angle of the house.
Scarcely had they disappeared before a girl's light figure appeared at an upstairs window. Doris's mischievous face peeped forth, wearing her gayest, most impudent grimace.
There was no one else in sight, and with instant decision Brandon stepped into full view, and without the faintest suggestion of concealment began to stroll up the winding path.
She heard his footsteps on the gravel, and turned her eyes upon him with a swift start of recognition.
He raised his hand in airy salute, and he heard her low murmur of laughter as she waved him a hasty sign to await her in the shrubbery from which he had just emerged.
* * * * *
"Did you actually come across the river?" said Doris. "Whatever made you do that?"
"I said I should come and fetch you, you know, if you didn't turn up," he said.
She laughed.
"Do you always keep your word?"
"To you--always," he assured her.
Her merry face coloured a little, but she met his eyes with absolute candour.
"And now that you have come what can we do? Are you going to take me on the river? It looks rather dangerous."
"It is dangerous," Brandon said coolly, "but I think I can get you over in safety if you will allow me to try. In any case, I won't let you drown."
"I shall be furious if anything happens," she told him--"if you splash me even. So beware!"
He pushed out from the bank with a laugh. It was evident that her threat did not greatly impress him.
As for Doris, she was evidently enjoying the adventure, and the risks that attended it only added to its charm. There was something about this man that fascinated her, a freedom and a daring to which her own reckless spirit could not fail to respond. He was the most interesting plaything she had had for a long time. She had no fear that he would ever make the mistake of taking her seriously.
They reached the opposite bank in safety, and he handed her ashore with considerable
empressement.
"I have a confession to make," he said, as they walked up to the house.
"Oh, I know what it is," she returned carelessly. "Mrs. Lockyard did not expect me and has gone out."
He nodded.
"You are taking it awfully well. One would almost think you didn't mind."
She laughed.
"I never mind anything so long as I am not bored."
"Nor do I," said Brandon. "We seem to have a good deal in common. But what puzzles me--"
He broke off. They had reached the open French window that led into Mrs. Lockyard's drawing-room. He stood aside for her to enter.
"Well?" she said, as she passed him. "What is this weighty problem?"
He followed her in.
"What puzzles me," he said, "is how a girl with your natural independence and love of freedom can endure to remain unmarried."
She opened her eyes wide in astonishment.
"My good sir, you have expressed the exact reason in words which could not have been better chosen. Independence, love of freedom, and a very strong preference for going my own way."
He laughed a little.
"Yes, but you would have all these things a thousand times multiplied if you were married.
Look at all the restraints and restrictions to which girls are subjected where married women simply please themselves. Why, you are absolutely hedged round with conventions. You can scarcely go for a ride with a man of your acquaintance in broad daylight without endangering your reputation. What would they say--your cousin and Mrs. Abingdon--if they knew that you were here with me now? They would hold up their hands in horror."
The girl's thoughts flashed suddenly to Caryl. How much freedom might she expect from him?
"It's all very well," she said, with a touch of petulance, "but easy-going husbands don't grow on every gooseberry-bush. I have never yet met the man who wouldn't want to arrange my life in every detail if I married him."
"Yes, you have," said Brandon.
He spoke with deliberate emphasis, and she knew that as he spoke he looked at her in a manner that there could be no mistaking. Her heart quickened a little, and she felt the colour rise in her face.
"Do you know that I am engaged to Vivian Caryl?" she said.
"Perfectly," he answered. "I also know that you have not the smallest intention of marrying him."
She frowned, but did not contradict him.
He continued with considerable assurance:
"He is not the man to make you happy, and I think you know it. My only wonder is that you didn't realize it earlier--before you became engaged to him."
"My engagement was only an experiment," she said quickly.
"And therefore easily broken," he rejoined. "Why don't you put a stop to it?"
She hesitated.
He bent towards her.
"Do you mean to say that he is cad enough to hold you against your will?"
Still she hesitated, half-afraid to speak openly.
He leant nearer; he took her hand.
"My dear child," he said, "don't for Heaven's sake give in to such tyranny as that, and be made miserable for the rest of your life. Oh, I grant you he is the sort of fellow who would make what is called a good husband, but not the sort of husband you want. He would keep you in order, shackle you at every turn. Marry him, and it will be good-bye to liberty--even such liberty as you have now--forever."
Her face had changed. She was very pale.
"I know all that," she said, speaking rapidly, with headlong impulse. "But, don't you see how difficult it is for me? They are all on his side, and he is so horribly strong. Oh, I was a fool I know to accept him. But we were waltzing and it came so suddenly. I never stopped to think. I wish I could get away now, but I can't."
"I can tell you of a way," said Brandon.
She glanced at him.
"Oh, yes, I know. But I can't be engaged to two people at once. I couldn't face it. I detest scenes."
"There need be no scene," he said. "You have only to come to me and give me the right to defend you. I ask for nothing better. Even Caryl would scarcely have the impertinence to dispute it. As my wife you will be absolutely secure from any interference."
She was gazing at him wide-eyed.
"Do you mean a runaway marriage?" she questioned slowly.
He drew nearer still, and possessed himself of her hands.
"Yes, just that," he said. "It would take a little courage, but you have plenty of that. And the rest I would see to. It wouldn't be so very difficult, you know. Mrs. Lockyard would help us, and you would be absolutely safe with me. I haven't much to offer you, I admit. I'm as poor as a church mouse. But at least you would find me"--he smiled into her startled eyes--"a very easy-going husband, I assure you."
"Oh, I don't know!" Doris said. "I don't know!"
Yet still she left her hands in his and still she listened to him. That airy reference of his to his poverty affected her favourably. He would scarcely have made it, she told herself, with an unconscious effort to silence unacknowledged misgivings, if her fortune had been the sole attraction.
"Look here," he said, breaking in upon these hasty meditations, "I don't want you to do anything in a hurry. Take a little while to think it over. Let me know to-morrow. I am not leaving till the evening. You shall do nothing, so far as I am concerned, against your will. I want you, now and always, to do exactly as you like. You believe that?"
"I quite believe you mean it at the present moment," she said with a decidedly doubtful smile.
"It will be so always," said Brandon, "whether you believe it or not."
And with considerable ceremony he raised her hands to his lips and deliberately kissed them. It seemed to Doris at that moment that even so headlong a scheme as this was not without its very material advantages. There were so many drawbacks to being betrothed.