That the girl should be so lovely was not doubt a pleasure to him;--and perhaps to her also that she should be joyous to look at and sweet of voice. But he, could he have been made to tell all the truth within him, would have still owned that it was his purpose to make Mabel his wife.
When the game was over and the propositions made for further matches and the like,--Miss Boncassen said that she would betake herself to her own room. 'I never worked so hard in my life before,' she said. 'And I feel like a navvie. I could drink beer out of a jug and eat bread and cheese. I won't play with you any more, Lord Silverbridge, because I am beginning to think it is unladylike to exert myself.'
'Are you not glad you came over?' said Lady Mabel to him as he was going off the ground without seeing her.
'Pretty well,' he said.
'Is it not better than stalking?'
'Lawn-tennis?'
'Yes;--lawn-tennis--with Miss Boncassen.'
'She plays uncommonly well.'
'And so do you.'
'Ah, she has such an eye for distances.'
'And you,--what have you an eye for? Will you answer me a question?'
'Well,--yes; I think so.'
'Truly.'
'Certainly; if I do answer it.'
'Do you not think her the most beautiful creature you ever saw in your life?' He pushed back his cap and looked at her without ****** any immediate answer. 'I do. Now tell me what you think.'
'I think that perhaps she is.'
'I knew you would say so. You are so honest that you could not bring yourself to tell a fib,--even to me about that. Come here and sit down for a moment.' Of course he sat down by her. 'You know that Frank came to see me at Grex?'
'He never mentioned it.'
'Dear me;--how odd!'
'It was odd,' said he in a voice which showed that he was angry.
She could hardly explain it to herself why she told him at the present moment. It came partly from jealousy, as though she had said to herself, 'Though he may neglect me, he shall know that there is someone else who does not;'--and partly from an eager half-angry feeling that she would have nothing concealed. There were moments with her in which she thought that she could arrange her future life in accordance with certain wise rules over which her heart should have no influence. There were others, many others, in which her feelings completely got the better of her.
And now she told herself that she would be afraid of nothing.
There should be no deceit, no lies!
'He went to see you at Grex?' said Silverbridge.
'Why should he not have come to me at Grex?'
'Only it is so odd that he did not mention it. It seems to me that he is always having secrets with you of some kind.'
'Poor Frank! There is no one else who would come to see me at that tumble-down old place. But I have another thing to say to you. You have behaved badly to me.'
'Have I?'
'Yes, sir. After my folly about that ring you should have known better than to send it to me. You must take it back again.'
'You shall do exactly what you said you would. You shall give it to me wife,--when I have one.'
'That did very well for me to say it in a note. I did not want to send my anger to you over a distance of two or three hundred miles by the postman. But now that we are together you must take it back.'
'I will do no such thing,' said he sturdily.
'You speak as though this were a matter in which you can have your own way.'
'I mean to have my own about that.'
'Any lady then must be forced to take any present that a gentleman may send her! Allow me to assure you that the usages of society do not run in that direction. Here is the ring. I knew that you would come over to see,--well, to see someone here, and I have kept it ready in my pocket.'
'I came over to see you.'
'Lord Silverbridge! But we know that in certain employments all things are fair.' He looked at her not knowing what were the employments to which she alluded. 'At any rate you will oblige me by--by--by not being troublesome, and putting this little trinket into your pocket.'
'Never! Nothing on earth shall make me do it.'
At Killancodlem they did not dine till half-past eight. Twilight was now stealing on these two, who were still out in the garden, all the others having gone in to dress. She looked round to see that no other eyes were watching them as she still held the ring.
'It is there,' she said, putting it on the bench between them.
Then she prepared to rise from the seat so that she might leave it with him.
But he was too quick for her, and was away at a distance before she had collected her dress. And from a distance he spoke again.
'If you choose that it shall be lost, so be it.'
'You had better take it,' said she, following him slowly. But he would not turn back;--nor would she. They met again in the hall for a moment. 'I should be sorry it should be lost,' said he, 'because it belonged to my great uncle. And I had hoped that I might live to see it very often.'
'You can fetch it,' she said, as she went to her room. He however would not fetch it. She had accepted it, and he would not take it back again, let the fate of the gem be what it might.
