IN WHICH MARY CARSTAIRS IS INVITED TO THE YACHT "CYPRIANI"
But he recovered in a flash, aware of the criticalness of that moment,
and met her bewildered gaze steadily.
"Terrible? Certainly not. Your name surprised me a little. That was all.
I thought, you see, that you were somebody else."
"Yes? Who?"
"I really--do not know exactly. Do forgive my stupidity, won't you? As I
say, I was just a little surprised."
"You would explain to a man," she said, "and don't you think you ought
to to me? If you did not know exactly who you thought I was, why should
my name surprise you so?"
He picked up a hideous china swan from a smart little oak stand and
examined it with excessive interest.
"It was merely that I happen to know some one in New York who had
mentioned you--and done it in a way to make me think you were not--very
old. In fact, I had supposed that Miss Mary Carstairs wore short dresses
and a plait down her back. You see," he said, with a well-planned smile,
"how absurdly wrong I was. And then, just now, somebody pointed out your
house to me. There was a girl standing in the doorway--a small, dark
girl, with--"
A peal like chimes cut him short. "Dear Jenny Thurston! Our
seamstress's little girl. She is spending the day with my mother, while
I've been spending most of the day with _her_ mother! Turn about! But I
wish you'd tell me," she said, "who it is that could have spoken of
me--to you. How interesting that we have a friend in common!"
"Not a friend," he said grimly, at the window. "Only a former--
acquaintance of yours--somebody that I imagine you have pretty well
forgotten. I'll tell you--another time. But I see it has stopped raining,
Miss--Miss--Miss Carstairs. Perhaps we had better take advantage of the
lull to start?--for I hope you are going to let me act for Mr. Hare, and
walk home wih you."
"Oh--would you! Then indeed we had!" she said rising at once. "I am
horribly late now: I know my mother is frantic. I don't mind your not
telling me that, really! But--it is odd that you should have spoken of
my age twice to-night. Shall I tell you something, Mr. Stanhope--to show
you why I have had to give up pigtails? This is my birthday: I am
nineteen to-day!"
She raised her eyes, shining, heavy-fringed, deep as the sea and bluer,
and looked at him. His own fell instantly. A shade of annoyance flitted
across his still face.
"It is a delightful surprise," he said, mechanically. "But you must not
call me Mr. Stanhope, please, Miss Carstairs."
"Why--mayn't I call you by your name?"
"My name," said Varney, "in fairly legible print, is on the card which
you hold in your hand."
She raised her eyes and looked at him, perplexed, hesitating, a little
mortified, like one who has encountered an unlooked-for rebuff. "Forgive
me," she ventured rather shyly, "but do you think it would be possible
for you to--to keep an incog here--where you must have so many friends?
If you want to do that--to try it--of course I'll not tell a soul. But
I'd like it very much if you could trust--_me_, who have known you
through your books for so long."
"I should be quite willing to trust you, Miss Carstairs, but there is
nothing to trust you about. I am not incog. I am not the author. I have
written no books whatever--"
"Ah! Then good-bye," she said with a swift change of manner, starting at
once for the door. "I shall not trouble you to walk home with me. Thank
you again for giving me shelter and light during the storm."
"Will you be good enough to wait one minute?"
She paused with one gloved hand on the knob, cool, resolute, a little
angry, the blue battery of her eyes fixing him across her white
embroidered shoulder. But he had turned away, hands thrust deep into the
pockets of his coat, brow rumpled into a frown, jaw set to anathema of
the plight in which a needless fortune had plunged him.
If he let Uncle Elbert's daughter go like this, he might as well put the
_Cypriani_ about at once for New York, for he knew that he would never
have the chance to talk with her again. With engaging young
friendliness which overrode reserve, she had been moved to ask his
confidence, and he had angered her, even hurt her feelings, it seemed,
by appearing to withhold it. In return she had thrown down the issue
before him, immediate and final. Abstract questions of morals, and there
were new ones of great seriousness now, would have to wait. Should he
allow her to think that he was another man, or should he bid her
good-bye and abandon his errand?
There was no alternative: she had made that unmistakable. His oath to
her father came suddenly into his mind. After all, was it not a little
absurd to boggle over one small deception when the whole enterprise, as
now suddenly revealed, was to be nothing but one continuous and colossal
one?
"Miss--Miss Carstairs," said Varney, "with _you_ I shall not argue this.
I am going to let you think I am whoever you want. We needn't say
anything more about it, need we? Only--I'll ask you to call me by the
name I gave you, please, and, so far as you can, to regard me that way.
Is that--a bargain?"
Mary Carstairs stood at the threshold of the lighted room, looking at
him from under her wide white hat, eyes shining, lips smiling, cheeks
faintly flushed with a sense of the triumph she had won.
"Of course," she said. "And I don't think you'll need ever be sorry for
having trusted me--_Mr. Varney!"_
He bowed stiffly. "If you will kindly open the door, I will blow out the
lamp and give myself the pleasure of taking you home."
They left the hospitable cottage of Ferris Stanhope, and went out into
the night, side by side, Varney and Mary Carstairs. The young man's
manner was deceptively calm, but his head was in a whirl. However, the
one vital fact about the situation stood out in his mind like a tower
set on a hill. This was that Uncle Elbert's daughter was walking at his
elbow, on terms of acquaintanceship and understanding. The thing had
happened with stunning unexpectedness, but it had happened, and the game
was on. The next move was his own, and what better moment for making it
would he ever have?
The road was dark and wet. Rain-drops from the trees fell upon them as
they walked, gathered pools splashed shallowly under their feet.
Suddenly Varney said:
"Do you happen to be interested in yachts, Miss Carstairs? Mine is
anchored just opposite your house, I believe, and it would be a pleasure
to show her to you sometime."