"I couldn't--you know I couldn't," I cried--and then I blushed to my
ears.
"Are you sure you couldn't?" bending a little nearer.
"Quite sure," I murmured.
He surrendered my hymnal at last.
"Will you give me a rose?"
I unpinned the whole cluster and handed it to him. He lifted it until
it touched his lips. As for me, I scuttled up the lane in the most
undignified fashion. At the turn I looked back. He was still standing
there with his hat off.
July Twenty-fourth.
On Monday afternoon I slipped away to the shore while Aunt Martha and
Mrs. Saxby were taking their regular nap and I was supposed to be
reading sermons in my room.
Mr. Shelmardine was leaning against the old boat, but he came swiftly
across the sand to meet me.
"This is very kind of you," he said.
"I ought not to have come," I said repentantly. "But it is so lonely
there--and one can't be interested in sermons and memoirs _all_ the
time."
Mr. Shelmardine laughed.
"Mr. and Mrs. Allardyce are on the other side of the boat. Will you
come and meet them?"
How nice of him to bring them! I knew I should like Mrs. Allardyce,
just because Aunt Martha didn't. We had a delightful stroll. I never
thought of the time until Mr. Shelmardine said it was four o'clock.
"Oh, is it so late as that?" I cried. "I must go at once."
"I'm sorry we have kept you so long," remarked Mr. Shelmardine in a
tone of concern. "If she should be awake, what will the consequences
be?"
"Too terrible to think of," I answered seriously. "I'm sorry, Mr.
Shelmardine, but you mustn't come any further."
"_We_ will be here tomorrow afternoon," he said.
"Mr. Shelmardine!" I protested. "I wish you wouldn't put such ideas
into my head. They won't come out--no, not if I read a whole volume of
sermons right through."
We looked at each other for a second. Then he began to smile, and we
both went off into a peal of laughter.
"At least let me know if Miss Fiske rampages," he called after me as I
fled.
But Aunt Martha was not awake--and I have been to the shore three
afternoons since then. I was there today, and I'm going tomorrow for a
boat sail with Mr. Shelmardine and the Allardyces. But I am afraid the
former will do something rash soon. This afternoon he said: "I don't
think I can stand this much longer."
"Stand what?" I asked.
"You know very well," he answered recklessly. "Meeting you in this
clandestine manner, and thereby causing that poor little conscience of
yours such misery. If your aunt were not so--unreasonable, I should
never have stooped to it."
"It is all my fault," I said contritely.
"Well, I hardly meant that," he said grimly. "But hadn't I better go
frankly to your aunt and lay the whole case before her?"
"You would never see me again if you did that," I said hastily--and
then wished I hadn't.
"That is the worst threat you could make," he said.
July Twenty-fifth.
It is all over, and I am the most miserable girl in the world. Of
course this means that Aunt Martha has discovered everything and the
deserved punishment of my sins has overtaken me.
I slipped away again this afternoon and went for that boat sail. We
had a lovely time but were rather late getting in, and I hurried home
with many misgivings. Aunt Martha met me at the door.
My dress was draggled, my hat had slipped back, and the kinks and curls
of my obstreperous hair were something awful. I know I looked very
disreputable and also, no doubt, very guilty and conscience-stricken.
Aunt gave me an unutterable look and then followed me up to my room in
grim silence.
"Marguer_ite_, what does this mean?"
I have lots of faults, but untruthfulness isn't one of them. I
confessed everything--at least, almost everything. I didn't tell about
the telescopes and deaf-mute alphabet, and Aunt was too
horror-stricken to think of asking how I first made Mr. Shelmardine's
acquaintance. She listened in stony silence. I had expected a terrible
scolding, but I suppose my crimes simply seemed to her too enormous
for words.
When I had sobbed out my last word she rose, swept me one glance of
withering contempt, and left the room. Presently Mrs. Saxby came up,
looking concerned.
"My dear child, what have you been doing? Your aunt says that we are
to go home on the afternoon train tomorrow. She is terribly upset."
I just curled up on the bed and cried, while Mrs. Saxby packed my
trunk. I will have no chance to explain matters to Mr. Shelmardine.
And I will never see him again, for Aunt is quite capable of whisking
me off to Africa. He will just think me a feather-brained flirt. Oh, I
am so unhappy!
July Twenty-sixth.
I am the happiest girl in the world! That is quite a different strain
from yesterday. We leave Fir Cottage in an hour, but that doesn't
matter now.
I did not sleep a wink last night and crawled miserably down to
breakfast. Aunt took not the slightest notice of me, but to my
surprise she told Mrs. Saxby that she intended taking a farewell walk
to the shore. I knew I would be taken, too, to be kept out of
mischief, and my heart gave a great bound of hope. Perhaps I would
have a chance to send word to Francis, since Aunt did not know of the
part my spyglass had played in my bad behaviour.
I meekly followed my grim guardians to the shore and sat dejectedly on
my rug while they paced the sand. Francis was on the rocks. As soon as
Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby were at a safe distance, I began my
message: "All discovered. Aunt is very angry. We go home today."
Then I snatched my glass. His face expressed the direst consternation
and dismay. He signalled: "I must see you before you go."
"Impossible. Aunt will never forgive me. Good-bye."
I saw a look of desperate determination cross his face. If forty Aunt
Marthas had swooped down upon me, I could not have torn my eyes from
that glass.
"I love you. You know it. Do you care for me? I must have my answer
now."
What a situation! No time or chance for any maidenly hesitation or
softening aureole of words. Aunt and Mrs. Saxby had almost reached the
point where they invariably turned. I had barely time to spell out a
plain, blunt "yes" and read his answer.
"I shall go home at once, get Mother and Connie, follow you, and
demand possession of my property. I shall win the day. Have no fear.
Till then, good-bye, my darling."
"Marguerite," said Mrs. Saxby at my elbow, "it is time to go."
I got up obediently. Aunt Martha was as grim and uncompromising as
ever, and Mrs. Saxby looked like a chief mourner, but do you suppose I
cared? I dropped behind them just once before we left the shore. I
knew he was watching me and I waved my hand.
I suppose I am really engaged to Francis Shelmardine. But was there
ever such a funny wooing? And _what_ will Aunt Martha say?