As was expected, they found there was much anxiety at home over their long
absence. Mr. Sherwood was on the watch when the sleigh drove up, and was
beside it in time to help the muffled figures alight, and anxious to hear
the particulars of their protracted drive.
"Let me go into Mrs. Gurney's just a minute, papa," said Dexie, "and I will
tell you all about it when I come back."
Then they found themselves pulled through the hall by the eager children,
who had been watching for their appearance for hours, and into the
sitting-room where Mrs. Gurney sat with a white, anxious face, waiting
their arrival.
In a few minutes the story of their detention was told, Lancy telling his
part and Elsie hers, Dexie finishing the story by confessing to the extreme
measures used to keep Elsie awake, not sparing herself in the least when
telling of the quarrel she had provoked, and there was a suspicious
moisture in Mr. Gurney's eyes as he listened to the story.
"You have been in great peril," said he, as he drew the girls to his side.
"Let us all kneel a moment and return thanks for the safety of these dear
ones;" and all knelt, just as they were: Mr. Gurney with one arm around
Elsie, the other around Dexie; Lancy with his fur coat still on, and the
whip in his hand; the little ones, who had pressed into the room, dropped
to their knees, their arms full of toys; Mrs. Gurney with the baby in her
arms--all knelt, while a few earnest words went up from a father's grateful
heart.
Mrs. Gurney insisted that Elsie should go up to bed at once, and be
doctored for the cold she had evidently contracted, and pressing a kiss on
Dexie's cheek, she followed her daughter upstairs.
But for all their care Elsie was confined to her room for several weeks,
and her recovery was slow and tedious. They were all thankful, though, that
nothing more serious resulted from exposure to the storm, which was the
worst that had visited the country for several years.
Dexie had to tell the story over again when she went home; but she made
light of it all, making much more fun out of their grand ride on horseback
than either she or Elsie had experienced while partaking of it. But the
whole story came out when Lancy came in during the evening, and Mr.
Sherwood's look of tender solicitude contrasted strangely with the mother's
apparent unconcern, as the story of their adventure was related at length.
"I am forgetting that I was sent in here with a message," Lancy said, a few
minutes later. "Elsie has been asking to see you, Dexie, and mother wishes
to know if you are too tired to run in a few minutes."
Dexie followed Lancy into his own door, and running swiftly up the stairs
was soon bending over Elsie, who was wrapped up like a mummy.
"I did not want to see you for anything _very_ particular," Elsie said, in
answer to Dexie's inquiry. "But I could not go to sleep for thinking of
last night. It seems so good to be in my own bed again, safe, after all my
fears, that I wanted to tell you once more how sorry I am for being so
cross with you; for I was _awful_ cross, Dexie, when you talked so harshly
to me."
"Now, Elsie! don't speak as if there were anything for _you_ to be sorry
for, or I shall have such qualms of conscience as will surely make me ill,"
was Dexie's laughing reply.
After a few minutes' chat, Dexie left the room to return home, but Lancy
was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and he drew her into the parlor,
saying:
"Stay with me a little while, Dexie, do; no one will disturb us here, and I
want to have a 'sing.' Your father or Gussie are sure to be in the parlor
if we go into your house."
"Well, it will have to be a short 'sing,' Lancy, for the drive in the wind
has made me sleepy."
When Mrs. Gurney passed the door a few minutes later, and peeped into the
dimly lighted room to listen to the soft strains that met her ears, she
smiled and softly withdrew, for Lancy was seated at the instrument, and
Dexie stood by his side, her hand resting carelessly on his shoulder, while
they sang what Mrs. Gurney knew was their private thanksgiving.
As the last notes died away, Lancy turned on the music-stool and took her
hand; Dexie's thoughts had been so engrossed that, for the moment, she let
it rest there, when she heard the low-spoken words: "I want to tell you
something, Dexie."
Instantly Elsie's words flashed into her mind, and she tried to break away
from the arm that encircled her waist.
"Let me go, Lancy," was the startled cry. "It is time I was home."
"I will take you home presently, Dexie; I want to talk to you a few minutes
first," and catching her hands in his he held her close.
"But I do not want to be held here! Oh, Lancy! let go my hands. I must go
home."
"Be quiet and listen to me a minute, Dexie; only a minute. I want to tell
you that, when I left you both in the sleigh last night, I felt far worse
about leaving you than my own sister. Do you know why, Dexie?"
"I don't want to know, Lancy. I don't want to hear another word."
"You can't get away from me, Dexie; so don't try. I want to tell you," he
added, in a lower tone, "that before last night I never knew why it was
that I liked to spend all the time I could with you. I thought it was on
account of our music, but as I walked through the storm last night the
truth came to me. I love you, Dexie, and that is why my heart kept me up
till I found help. I was almost wild with fear that something would happen
to you before I could get you safely sheltered. Yes, darling, I love you;
and the thought has made me feel so light of heart that I could sing all
the time for very joy."
"Oh, Lancy! how can you talk so. You have spoiled all our good times
together, for I'll never come in here again when I know you are home," and
she turned her face away from his earnest gaze.
"Oh, yes, you will; you will not be so unkind as that. If you refuse to
come in here I will go into your house just twice as often; so you can't
get rid of me, Dexie," was the smiling reply.
There was a moment's silence, when Dexie said: "It will be a pity for us to
quarrel, Lancy, but you must not talk to me like this any more. Really, I
did not think you could be so silly. Think how they would all tease us if
anyone should find us here; and you know Gussie would make my life a misery
if she guessed you had been talking such nonsense."
"It is not 'nonsense' to tell you that I love you, but my love shall not be
a source of annoyance to you; no one need know it. Everything will be as
usual, only, Dexie, you will know that I love you, and I will know--well,
what, Dexie? You do not dislike me any more than you did two days ago, do
you?" he whispered.
"I have not changed in the least, but I shall dislike you very much, Lancy,
if you do not try and forget what has been said here this evening."
"I cannot forget it even if I wanted to, Dexie. Do not think that I want to
vex you, dear, but I want you to understand me. Now, there is only one
thing more, Dexie," and his voice grew tender; "that kiss you gave me last
night in the sleigh seems to be resting on my lips yet, and has been a
sweet memory all day long. But, Dexie," and he laughed softly, "you know it
was a very cold kiss, after all. Give me a warm one to take its place, and
I'll let you go."
Dexie shook her head and tried to draw back from him. She felt so
distressed that the tears were on the point of falling. She had gone
through so much during the last few hours, and this unexpected interview
tried her more than Lancy was aware.
"Only one kiss," he urged. "You gave it willingly last night, darling."
"But things are not the same as they were last night."
"No, I love you better, Dexie. May I?" But without waiting for permission
he kissed the face so near him, and found it wet with tears.
"Dexie, darling, I did not think you would care so much. Forgive me if I
vexed you; you kissed me last night without a word."
"But you are not the same, and there was a reason last night. It is not
fair, Lancy. You have quite spoiled our good times for the future."
"No, not spoiled them, only made them dearer. Dexie, you shan't be vexed
with me. Come over on the sofa and let me talk to you."
"No; you said you would let me go home, and I want to go now, this very
minute."
"Very well." He rose and pulled her shawl over her shoulders, then followed
her silently into the shelter of her own door. He would have followed her
into the house as well, forgetting that Dexie's face would tell tales, but
she stopped him at the door.
"I don't want to see you any more to-night, Lancy; I really don't," she
said, as they stood a moment in the front hall.
"You are displeased with me for telling you that I love you. Perhaps I
should have waited a little longer before speaking about it; but, Dexie, I
couldn't keep it to myself. I had to tell you."
"I would not have been any more pleased to hear it, even if you _had_ kept
it longer;" and, lifting her eyes to his face for a moment, added, "I am
not exactly vexed with you, Lancy, but I'm not pleased either. Now, go
home; do." Being thus summarily dismissed, there was no choice left him;
but before he turned to obey her command, he raised her hand to his lips,
and whispered a tender "Good-night, Dexie."
She stood and watched him down the steps, then turned and went quickly to
her own room, and locking the door behind her threw herself face down on
the bed, and for a few minutes wept without restraint. She felt completely
unnerved; so much had happened during the last twenty-four hours that had
tried her strength and courage, that Lancy's declaration had filled up the
measure of her strength.
But her thoughts, always rapid, soon worked out a semblance of order from
the confusion that filled her mind, and she dried her eyes and began to
review her conduct in the light that others probably judged her.
She would not deny, even to herself, that she preferred Lancy's company to
that of any of her male friends; but they were both so young that it was
ridiculous to even imagine that their intimacy meant more than common
friendship. However, if Lancy chose to be silly, that was no reason that
she should become sentimental also. She was not obliged to fall in love
just because Lancy fancied himself in that condition. It would be horrid
not to see him or sing with him again when their voices chorded so well
together; and Lancy never misunderstood her, if everyone else did. Yes, it
would be very hard not to be friendly with him; but, there! surely one can
be friendly with a gentleman without being expected to fall in love with
him, and she felt positive that if there were a Prince Charming for her,
his name was not Lancy Gurney.
Having thus decided the matter satisfactorily to herself, she rose and
quickly prepared herself for bed; for several days after she took good care
not to be left alone with Lancy, and she kept him at a distance by her
saucy speeches.
But his manner to her was the same as usual. The tender look in his eyes,
when they met hers, was the only reminder of his words. The knowledge of
his love, too, ceased to annoy her, or it was crowded back by the many
incidents that filled her life at this time; but it was there, ready to
spring up at the slightest touch.