_ PART III CHAPTER II. THE COMPACT
The polo-ground at Fairharbour was reckoned as one of the greatest attractions the town possessed. Because of it, and the Graydown race-course an ever-increasing stream of visitors poured yearly into the town and its neighbourhood, and very fashionable crowds were wont to gather during the summer season at the various hotels which had sprung up during recent years for their accommodation.
The old Anchor Hotel facing the shore had been bought by a syndicate and rebuilt and was now a very modern erection indeed. It boasted a large lounge, palm-decked and glass-covered, in which a string band played for several hours of the day, and the constant swing of its doors testified to the great popularity to which it had attained since its renovation.
To Bunny, who had known the place under very different circumstances in his boyhood, it was always a source of amusement to drop in and mark progress. The polo-ground was only a few yards away, and he had become an ardent member of the Club to which he almost invariably devoted two afternoons of the week.
He was a promising player, and his keenness made him a favourite. He rode Lord Saltash's ponies, Saltash himself very seldom putting in an appearance. He was wont to declare that he had no time for games, and his frequent absences made it impossible for him to take a very active part in the proceedings of the Club which he had himself inaugurated in an idle hour. He dropped in occasionally to watch a game, and he took interest in Bunny's progress; but he was very rarely moved to play himself. He was too restless, too volatile, to maintain any lasting enthusiasm for any pastime. All that was generally seen of him when staying at Burchester was a lightning glimpse as he tore by in his car, or else galloped furiously over the downs and along the hard sands in the early morning.
He was a good deal in town as a rule during the season, but with the general exodus in July he was invariably the first to go, driven by a fever that gave him no rest. Even his most intimate friends seldom knew where he was to be found or whither his wild fancy would take him next. No one was sure of him at any time. He would accept an engagement and throw it up again without scruple if it did not accord with his mood. Yet wherever he went he could always command a welcome--at least from the feminine portion of the community who declared that Charles Rex could not be judged by ordinary standards; he was a law unto himself.
Even Bunny did not know where he was on that hot afternoon in mid-July when all Fairharbour gathered to watch a match between the regular team and the visitors. It bid fair to be an exciting event, and he was in high spirits at being one of those chosen to play. Maud had promised to bring Toby down to see the game at his special request. He had seen very little of Toby since that night at the Castle, though he was forced to admit to himself that if she avoided him of set purpose she did it in a fashion that baffled detection. She seemed to have settled down as a regular inmate of Jake's household, and with the exception of her early rides with Jake she gave herself up almost exclusively to helping Maud with the children. She had eased his sister's burden in a wonderful fashion, and the children loved her dearly. Her readiness and her sweet temper never seemed to fail. She was but a child herself, but Bunny had an uneasy feeling that she was changing. She had stipulated for six months, but he sometimes wondered if by the end of that time she would not have contrived to put herself out of his reach. It was that suspicion that kept him hotly determined to pursue her untiringly till he captured her. Even at a distance that odd charm of hers lured him strongly, and he knew instinctively that if once she were launched in society his chances of victory would be very greatly reduced. He wished he could have seen more of Captain Larpent and possibly have enlisted his sympathy, but he had left the Castle with Saltash, and even Toby herself professed ignorance of his whereabouts. It was evident that they had never seen much of one another, and Bunny realized that he would look in vain for help in that quarter.
He doggedly maintained his resolve to win her none the less, and his visits to his sister's house were frequent. He spoke no word on the subject either to Maud or Jake. Toby should not feel that he had in any sense taken a mean advantage. But he never looked at her without the quick longing to take her in his arms rising in his heart, and though the longing was never satisfied he believed that she was aware of it. She was always friendly with him and never embarrassed in his presence. Yet he had a strong feeling that by some subtle means she was holding him off. He bided his time with what patience he could muster, but he was determined it should not be for long.
The work on Saltash's estate had done him good. He was keen to prove himself, and the vigorous, out-door life suited him. Jake saw with satisfaction that he was developing a self-reliance and resourcefulness that had not characterized him formerly. He had given up racing according to his promise, and the life he now led was after Jake's own heart, an existence of wholesome activity that was making of him exactly the type of man that he desired him to become. The boy was a gentleman and there was fine stuff in him. Jake gloried in the fact. There had always been in Bunny qualities that appealed to him very strongly, and it was in a large measure due to his influence that those qualities had ripened as they had.
He did not accompany Maud and Toby down to Fairharbour, for business kept him at the Stables. "Bring him back with you!" he said to his wife at parting, and she smiled and promised. Bunny was never difficult to persuade.
But when they reached the polo-ground he was in the midst of a crowd of visitors from the hotel, and it seemed at first as if he would have no time to spare for them. He very speedily detached himself, however, at sight of them and came up with an eager greeting.
"So awfully glad you've come. There are some people here you used to know, Maud, in the old days. Friends of Charlie's too. The Melroses--you remember them, don't you?"
The name came upon Maud with a curious shock. Yes, she remembered the Melroses. They belonged to the long, long ago before her marriage--to that strange epoch in her early girlhood when Charlie Burchester had filled her world. How far away it seemed! They had all been in the same set, they and the Cressadys who had been responsible for the scandal that had so wrung her proud heart. Lady Cressady had been dead for years. She wondered if Charlie had ever regretted her. It had been but a passing fancy, and she suspected that he had forgotten her long since. He had never really taken her seriously; of that she was convinced now. Life had been merely a game with him in those days. It was only recently that it had begun to be anything else.
She felt no keen desire to resume the long-forgotten acquaintance with the Melroses, but Bunny evidently expected it of her, had already told them about her, and she had no choice.
She followed him therefore, Toby very sedate and upright behind her. Toby was looking wonderfully pretty that day. She varied as a landscape varies on a windy day, but that afternoon she was at her best. Her blue eyes looked forth upon the crowd with a hint of audacity, and her _piquante_ little face was full of charm.
Bunny's look dwelt upon her as he drew aside for his sister to pass him at the pavilion. He pinched her elbow with a sudden smile.
"You don't want to go and talk to those people. Come with me and see the ponies!"
She responded with characteristic eagerness to the invitation. "Shall I? But won't Maud mind? Do you think I ought?"
"Of course you ought," he rejoined with decision. "Maud won't care. I'll bring you back to her before the play begins."
He drew her away through the crowd, and she went with him without further demur. Bunny was tall and bore himself with distinction. There was, moreover, something rather compelling about him just then, and Toby felt the attraction. She suffered the hand that grasped her own.
"Look here!" he said abruptly, as they drew apart from the throng. "I've got to see more of you somehow. Have you been dodging me all this time?"
"I?" said Toby.
She met his eyes with a funny little chuckle. There was spontaneous mischief in his own.
He gave her hand an admonitory squeeze. "I'm not laughing. You're not playing the game. What's the good of my coming to the house to see you if we never meet?"
"Don't understand," said Toby briefly.
"Yes, you do. Or you can if you try. You never seem to have any liberty now-a-days. Is it Maud's doing or your own?"
Toby laughed again lightly and bafflingly. "I can do anything I want to do," she said.
"Oh, can you?" Bunny pounced. "Then you've got to meet me sometimes away from the rest. See? Come! That's only fair."
Toby made a face at him. "Suppose I don't want to?" she said.
He laughed into her eyes. "Don't tell me that! When and where?"
She laughed back. He was hard to resist. "I don't know. I'm too busy."
"Rot!" said Bunny.
"You're very rude," she remarked.
"I'll be ruder when I get the chance," he laughed. "Listen, I want to see you alone very badly. You're not going to let me down."
"I don't know what I'm going to do yet," said Toby.
But she could not look with severity into the handsome young face that was bent to hers. It was not in her to repulse a friendly influence. She had to respond.
"I'll tell you what you're going to do," said Bunny, marking her weakening with cheery assurance. "You'll take Chops for a walk to-morrow evening through the Burchester Woods. You know that gate by the larch copse? It's barely a mile across the down. Be there at seven, and perhaps--who knows?--perhaps--Chops may meet somebody he's rather fond of."
"And again perhaps he mayn't," said Toby, suppressing a dimple.
"Oh, I say, that's shabby! You'll give him the chance anyhow?"
The pleading note sounded in Bunny's voice. Toby suddenly dropped her eyes. She looked as if she were bracing herself to refuse.
Bunny saw and quickly grappled with the danger. "Give him the chance!" he urged softly into her ear. "You won't be sorry--afterwards."
She did not lift her eyes, but somehow the enchantment held. By a bold stroke he had entered her defences, and she could not for the moment drive him out. She was silent.
"You'll come?" whispered Bunny.
They were nearing a little group of ponies that were being held in readiness at the end of the field. Toby quickened her pace.
He kept beside her, but he did not speak again. And perhaps his silence moved her more than speech, for she gave a little impulsive turn towards him and threw him her sudden, boyish smile.
"All right. We'll come," she said.
"Hooray!" crowed Bunny softly.
"But I shan't stay long," she warned him. "And if I don't like it, I shall never come again."
"You will like it," said Bunny with confidence.
"I wonder," said Toby with her chin in the air. _