HOW MR. GOWER GROWS DARKLY MYSTERIOUS; AND HOW TITA HEARS OF THE
ARRIVAL OF ANOTHER GUEST.
Tita, going down the stairs after her interview with Margaret, meets
Randal in the hall below.
"You look rather down on your luck!" says he.
"My looks belie me, then," says she stoutly. "But you--what is the
matter with you?"
"Ruin!" says Mr. Gower tragically. "My looks do _not_ belie me."
"Good gracious, Randal!"
"Ruin stares me in the face," says he, "look where I will."
"Very rude of it," says Tita, with an irrepressible laugh. "One
should never stare people out of countenance. You should speak to
Ruin."
"Oh, it's all very fine making a joke of it!" says Mr. Gower, who
is, however, laughing too.
"Where are you going now?" asks Tita, as he moves away from her
towards the hall door.
"'Anywhere--anywhere out of the world,'" quotes he, with a dismal
shake of the head.
"Is it so serious as all that?" cries Tita. "Look here, Randal, wait
a moment, can't you? I have a last request to make. If you _are_
bent on dying, do it; but do it nicely--be picturesque: something
original, and no blood. Promise me there will be no blood!"
"'So young, and so untender!'" says Gower, gazing at her with deep
reproach.
He seems full of quotations.
"But where are you going, really?"
"Out."
He pauses.
"Not out of your mind, I hope?"
"Don't be too sure."
"Well, wait, and I'll go with you," says she, glancing at the stand
in the hall where her garden hat is generally to be found.
"Not to-day," says Gower; "you mustn't come with me to-day. I'm going
out on business."
"Business!"
Mr. Gower and business seem so very far apart.
"Gruesome business," repeats he, dropping his voice to a whisper.
"I'm going with my aunt--'my dear, unmarried aunt.' It's my last
chance. I shall do or die to-day, or else"--an afterthought striking
him--_"she_ will."
"Where are you going with her?"
"I am taking her," says Mr. Gower, looking darkly round him, "for a
row on the lake. She says she dotes on lakes. I don't think she will
dote on your lake when she returns, if"--with a murderous eye--"she
ever does."
"Are you going to drown her?" asks Tita, catching him by the arm.
She is laughing still.
"I hope not--I _hope_ not," says Gower gloomily. "Circumstances
_may_ be favourable. We must pray for the best."
He tears himself away from her with a profound sigh, and she is
still standing, laughing in the hall, when the library door opens,
and Rylton comes into the hall.
Her laughter dies quickly. Rylton, after a swift, careless glance at
her, goes towards the letter-rack and places a letter in it, then
goes back to the library. As he reaches the door, however, he hears
little running feet behind him.
"Don't go--don't go," says Tita. She has laid one hand upon his arm,
and is looking up at him. "You are angry with me, and----"
"Angry? No!"
"You are--you know you are! And you want to scold me, and----"
"You are quite mistaken," says Rylton, shaking off her hand gently,
but with decision. "I have no desire whatever to scold you. Why
should I?"
He goes past her into the library, but she follows him--a lovely
little penitent--with lowered eyes.
"Do scold me!" says she. "I was wrong; and I did it on purpose,
too."
"On purpose?"
"Yes," hanging her pretty head; "I did it to annoy you! You were
so--so nasty about Tom the other night--do you remember? So I wanted
to make you _really mad_ this time--just for revenge, you know; but,
honestly, I didn't mean to be late for breakfast."
"Didn't you?" drearily.
"No, I didn't; you _must_ believe that." She goes nearer to him, and
slips her hand through his arm. "Maurice!" whispers she. He makes
her no answer. She moves even closer to him, and, leaning her little
head against his shoulder, looks up at him. _"Do_ scold me!" says
she again. The tender, childish voice touches him; it goes home to
his heart--the heart that is so full of another. He looks down at
her, and, stooping, lays his lips on hers. It can hardly be called a
kiss; yet it satisfies _her_, to whom, as yet, kissing means so
little. "Now I am forgiven," cries she triumphantly. "Is _that _your
scolding?"
"I told you I couldn't scold you," says he.
As he says this he sighs heavily.
"What a sigh!" She pushes him from her with both hands. "After all,
I believe you hate me!"
"No, I don't," says Rylton.
He smiles. After all, why not be friends with her? Had he explained
that indifference was the word she should have used for hate, would
she be any the wiser?
"No--really?" She has flung herself into a chair, and is looking at
him with her hands clasped behind her head. "Well," thoughtfully, "I
don't hate you, either. That's a blessing, isn't it?"
"A great one."
He feels a little piqued, however, at the nonchalance of her manner.
Why should it occur to her that she might hate him? She has,
unknowingly certainly, but unquestionably, blocked his way to the
fulfilment of his desires, but he---- He changes colour; is he
standing in _her_ way, then?
"What was the letter you were reading this morning when I came in?"
"A letter?"
He brings himself back to the present with an effort.
"Yes. It was so interesting," says she, making him a little
malicious grimace, "that you could not spare a moment from the
reading of it to acknowledge my presence."
"It was from my mother."
"No wonder it was so engrossing," says Tita naughtily. "Well----"
"It isn't well; it is ill," returns he, laughing. "She says she is
coming to stay with us for a week or so on her way to Lady Sarah's."
"Why is she coming?"
"For our sins, I suppose. I really don't know any other reason." He
casts an anxious glance at her. "I am afraid that you won't care
about it."
"Well, I shan't," says Tita frankly; "but if she wants to come,
there is nothing more to be said. What _I_ am afraid of is that
Marian won't like it."
"Marian?"
"Yes, Marian. It struck me that she was not very fond of your
mother. Was I right?"
"I could not possibly answer for Marian."
"No?"
"Certainly not."
"Yet I thought," with a swift glance, "that you were the one person
in the world who could have told me all about her."
"You were wrong, then. I have known Marian, and--liked her; but I
think no human being can answer for another's likes and dislikes."
"Perhaps so." She looks down thoughtfully. "When is your mother
coming?"
"To-morrow. I shall run up to town and meet her, and bring her on."
"You will be back to-morrow night?"
"Well, she seems to think so; but I expect she will be tired, and
stay in town until next morning. In the meantime," smiling at her,
"I leave the house and the guests and everything in your charge."
"How delightful!" cries Tita, clapping her hands.
Rylton turns away.