WOMAN'S RIGHTS REFUSED
The transcendent minutes passed, and presently found them sitting under
their sloping rock, talking with some measure of sense and
self-possession. Both heads were uncovered, and, as Anthony had
anticipated, gloves were not required. The saffron sky had hardly a
vestige of colour left, stars were out overhead, the gorge at their feet
might have been the valley of death itself, so impenetrably deep and
dark it looked, with the steep, black hills heaving out of it. Through
the delicate air came a faint chime from far away behind them, the clock
at the post office striking nine.
"Ought we not to go?" whispered Jenny.
"No, darling. We couldn't go if we tried. On the other side it would be
too dark to see a step; we should only lose ourselves. We must wait for
the moon."
"It won't be long, will it?"
"About half an hour. Aren't you content to sit here with me? We shall be
home before eleven."
She was quite content. Her head was not high enough to reach his
shoulder--it rested on his breast; he tucked away his beard that it
might not tickle her face. His own face he laid on her brown hair, or
stroked that hair with a big, soft hand. His arm supported her little
frame; it was so little and so light that he was afraid to hug it much,
for fear he should crush it.
"What a ridiculous mite it is!" he murmured. "If you are tired, Jenny, I
can carry you home quite easily."
She said she was not tired.
"But you have been tired, my poor little girl! When I think of what you
have been doing, all this hot summer, while I have been loafing around
and amusing myself----! However, that won't happen again."
"And yet you never came to the tea-room to see how I was getting on--not
for such a long, long time!"
"And don't you know why that was? Mary found me going, and scolded me
for it, because she said it was compromising you. It was for fear that I
might do that--that only--that I kept away. Whereby, you see, I have
_always_ treated you like a lady--from the very beginning. Oh, Jenny,
that _was_ an unkind thing to say!"
"But how was I to know? And you were so far above me----"
He put his hand over her mouth.
"But still I _do_ think," she proceeded, when the impediment was
removed, "I do think it _was_ cheek and impudence to make so sure. It's
like a Sultan and his slave--like Ahasuerus and Esther. And I never
_did_ run after you--you know I never, never did!"
Her voice was smothered in his moustache.
"Poor little mite! No more it did! It was the very pink and pattern of
all that was proper. And yet I knew it--I knew it, Jenny, just as
certainly as if you had said, 'I love you' in so many words."
"You had no business to know it--and you _couldn't_."
"I could and did. You shouldn't have eyes so clear that one can see your
heart through them." He kissed the lids down over them, and held them
shut for a space. "And you are not ashamed of it, are you?"
"I should have been ashamed if I had known it before, but I'm not now."
She stole an arm round his bent neck. "But you won't hold me cheap
by-and-by, because I gave myself away so easily, and was so far be----"
Again he laid his hand over her mouth. "I can't very well do it now," he
said gravely, "but when I am your husband, and you say things like that
to me, I shall simply smack you, Jenny."
He lifted her into a sitting posture, and fumbled in all his pockets.
"Oh, here it is," drawing forth the ring he had purchased in Melbourne.
"You can't see it by this light, but it's the very nicest I could find.
Neat, but not gaudy, you know. It has a pearl in it, threaded on a gold
wire because it's so big, as white and pure as your own dear little
soul. Yes, I got it on purpose--so you see how sure I was of getting
_you_. Don't let its poor little pride be hurt. You couldn't have helped
it, you know, anyhow; because, if you hadn't given yourself, I should
have taken you as a matter of course, as the giant took Tom Thumb."
"I don't think you would," said Jenny.
"You don't? Well, perhaps not I believe you are a match for any giant,
you little epitome of pluck! By-and-by we'll see. In the meantime let me
put this on your finger, and tell me if it's the right fit."
He put it on, and it was exactly the right fit.
"_There!_ By whatever means I have got you, you are mine from this
moment--signed, sealed, and delivered." He lifted the little hand, and
kissed the ring reverently. "Till death us do part."
She kissed it after him, and then flung herself on his breast, where he
held her, closely and in silence, until the moon rose and gave them
light enough to find their way home.
After all, it was past eleven before they arrived; for the right track
was difficult to find while the moon was shut off from it by the tall
scrub, and its many pitfalls had to be encountered with care. Hand in
hand, and cautious step by step, the affianced lovers came down from
their mount of transfiguration, and could hardly believe their ears
when, still high above the town, they counted the chimes that told them
they had been more than three hours together.
"Never mind," said Anthony. "In for a penny, in for a pound. And we
shall be able to give a good account of ourselves when we do get back."
"Shall you give an account to-night?" she asked.
"Certainly. In the first place, to justify this expedition; in the
second, to prove my right to take you home to-morrow, and otherwise to
control the situation. Isn't that what you wish?"
She assented with a pressure of his hand. "When I see my aunt's
face--when I see them all knocked backwards by the shock--then perhaps I
shall believe in the miracle of being engaged to you," she said. And he
replied with truth, that if she didn't believe it now, it was not his
fault.
The aunt's face it was which met them at the bank door. Mrs. Rogerson
believed that a deliberate assignation had been planned--and that on a
Sunday, when respectable young folks should have been at church--and
was properly concerned and scandalised. At the same time she was deeply
interested and flattered by the fact that it was Mr. Churchill who thus
took liberties with her household; and she felt there were mysteries to
be unravelled before she could decide upon any course of action. She
fell upon Jenny first, and her voice was a decided reprimand.
"My _dear_ child! where _have_ you been? And _do_ you know what time it
is?" Then with a gush, "Oh, Mr. Churchill, this _is_ an unexpected
pleasure! Won't you walk in?"
He shook hands and walked in. "I am afraid it's late," he said; "but you
must blame me, not Jenny. I took her for a little turn to see if the air
would do her headache good, and it got dark before we knew it, and we
lost our way. But I knew you would not be anxious, knowing she was with
me."
"Oh, no--certainly. Do come in. My husband will be so pleased to see
you. You are quite a stranger in these parts."
She led the way to the dining-room, where an entirely new supper had
been arranged, on purpose for him, and where he was impressively
received by the urbane father and his fluttering daughters.
"Our friends are gone, Jenny," said Clementine, all eyes for the great
man. "And Mrs. Simpson was so anxious to see you--to tell you she was
going down by Tuesday morning's train instead of to-morrow afternoon."
"Oh!" said Anthony, "that doesn't matter. I am going down myself
to-morrow afternoon, and I'll take care of Jenny. I know she is anxious
to get home--aren't you, dear?"
It was like an electric shock striking through the room. The eyes of the
startled family interrogated each other and Jenny's blushing face.
"Oh, it's quite proper," said Anthony lightly, "since we are engaged
people--engaged with the consent of our families, moreover. She could
not have a more eligible escort. _Is_ that chicken-pie, Miss Rogerson?
May I have some? I came away from Wandooyamba without my dinner, and I
am simply ravenous."
The effect of the plain statement was all that Jenny had anticipated.
They were so stupefied for the moment that they could only gape and
stare, marvelling at the inscrutable ways of Providence and the
incalculable caprices of rich men. Perhaps the first sensation was one
of personal chagrin, in that the virtue of consistent gentility had gone
unrewarded, while the enormity of a tea-room was so unjustly condoned;
but personal pride in the prospective connection was the permanent and
predominating sentiment. Exclamations, questions, interjections, kisses,
hugs, wrapped Jenny as in a whirlwind; while her lover calmly ate his
pie and drank his bottled ale, as if it were an old story that
interested him no longer. He was not ashamed to ask for a second
helping.
"And you never saw her on the platform last night?" said Clem archly, as
she waited upon him.
"Good heavens, no! What platform?"
"Our platform. She must have known you were coming--I know she saw you
jump out of the carriage--and she never made a sign! And she's never
given us the faintest hint at all!"
"That's her native modesty. And there are some things one doesn't talk
about, you know--except to one's nearest and dearest."
"Who can be nearer than we?" demanded Mrs. Rogerson, caressing her
niece.
"Oh, I don't know," he drawled carelessly. "There's nothing in being
mere relatives. I don't tell things to my relatives, and--a--you have
not been so _very_ intimate, you know--at least, not since I've known
her."
An uncomfortable pause was broken by a protest from Alice, who was given
to the saying of things that were better left unsaid. "I'm sure,
never--until the tea-room----"
The mention of that bone of strife brought angry blushes to the family
cheek, and glares which stopped her from going further.
"Don't speak ill of the tea-room, if you please," he said. "It is the
most admirable institution that I know. But for the tea-room I should
not have found my pattern wife--should not have known half her good
qualities."
Jenny's intimacy with _him_--years old since eight o'clock--made her
fearless of what she said or did, and, as has been intimated before, she
was a person of spirit, with a good deal of human nature in her. She
moved to his side, laid her hand on his shoulder for a moment, and
said, with an ineffable air of self-justification, "_He_ is not ashamed
of the tea-room."
"On the contrary, dear, I am proud of it," he responded quickly,
touching the little hand.
"Nevertheless," proceeded Jenny, "I will give it up now. It has been a
success--I have earned a great deal of money--but I will dispose of it
when I go home."
"We needn't talk about these things now," said Anthony, with a slight
frown.
"But, my dear sir," the urbane uncle interposed, "I am her natural
guardian, don't you see. Joseph is a good boy--a very superior youth, in
fact--but he is _only_ a boy. It is my duty, as her nearest male
relative, standing in the place of her father, to attend to her affairs
at this juncture."
"I merely wanted to say," proceeded Jenny, with an air of resolution,
"that I wish to please those who have been so good to me--who have not
despised me because of what I did to make a living. I will not wait in
the tea-room again--for their sakes; and of course my mother and sister
must not work there without me. I will think of something else, that
shall not--not be disagreeable to anybody."
"You don't want to think any more, Jenny," said Anthony quietly. "I am
going to do the thinking now."
"Still," urged Mrs. Rogerson, with tardy generosity and misguided zeal,
"we can't allow _you_ to be saddled with my sister and her children, Mr.
Churchill. They must not live on _your_ money."
"They won't," said Jenny.
"I know they won't," said Anthony, "if they are made of the same stuff
as you. But please leave all that now, dear. And go to bed, or you will
be tired for your journey to-morrow."
On the way to his hotel he confounded the impudence of her relatives in
many bad words, and laughed at the notion that she was going to "boss"
the family arrangements as heretofore.