"And he learns easily?"
"But what--?"
"Let Basil hear it from him!" said Marjolaine, triumphantly.
"Hear what?" almost screamed Barbara.
Marjolaine laughingly took her by the shoulders and shook her. "Oh, you
little goose!" she cried. Then she added, very deliberately and
clearly, "Teach the parrot to say--'Barbara loves you!'"
Barbara did, I assure you, leap into the air, and Marjolaine had her
hand over her mouth only just in time to stifle a scream which would
have brought the entire Walk to its doors and windows.
But Barbara was seized with instant remorse.
She put Marjolaine away from her with a gesture which would have done
credit to Mrs. Siddons. She spoke in a tone of mingled heroism and
reproach: "Charles's only gift, turned to such uses! Oh, Marjory!"
Marjolaine was quite unabashed. "Would n't Charles be pleased to know
his gift had been the means of making you happy?"
"From what I can remember of him, I should say decidedly not," said
Barbara, rather snappishly.
The Eyesore was now close to the Gazebo.
"Look!" cried Marjolaine. "The Eyesore's invading the whole Walk!"
But little Barbara cared. Also her momentary remorse had entirely
vanished. If she had been on a tree she would have hopped from branch
to branch. As it was she hopped all across the lawn, clapping her hands
and twittering. "Oh! I can't bother about him!" she said. "Let him
invade! Oh! it's such a splendid idea! Oh! you 're such a clever girl!
Oh! my goodness, what shall I do?"
Marjolaine was anxious on the Eyesore's account. Were the Admiral to
see him, there would be a terrible outburst of anger. "I'll speak to
him," she said, summoning all her courage, "I 'll save him from Sir
Peter's wrath!"
"No! no!" cried Barbara; "stick to business! Tell me more about the
bird!"
"Stand by me!" entreated Marjolaine. "Hold my hand!"
"I daren't! I'm frightened!" cried Barbara, "and--and--and I want to
begin teaching the bird!"
"Treacherous Barbara!" cried Marjolaine. But before the words were out
of her mouth Barbara had scuttled into the house and slammed the door.
And before Marjolaine had recovered from that shock the Eyesore had
hurled his hat and smock into the Gazebo, and she was in Jack's arms.
*CHAPTER X*
*IN WHICH THE MYSTERIOUS LADY REAPPEARS
AND HELPS JACK TO VANISH*
[Illustration: Chapter X headpiece]
Marjolaine was bewildered, overjoyed, indignant, and too breathless even
to cry out. Jack swept her off her feet. "Come into the Gazebo!" he
cried, and before she could remember where she was, she was on the seat
in the summer-house and Jack had hold of both her hands and was saying
impetuously, "Marjory, I love you!"
She sank into his arms, utterly overwhelmed. It was as if a cyclone had
whirled her away. "I love you, I love you, little Marjory," he was
murmuring into her ear. "I loved you the first moment I saw you under
the elm!"
Under the elm! Her memory came rushing back. She broke away from him
and her eyes flashed indignantly. "How dare you!" she cried. "Oh! how
dare you! I didn't know what I was doing. Go away! You broke your
word! You never came!"
"I come now!" he answered, with a fine air of injured innocence.
"In a horrible disguise!" said she, looking with disgust at the
Eyesore's hat and smock lying disconsolately where Jack had thrown them,
"and too late!" She broke into sobs. "I have promised not to love you!"
"Whom have you promised?"
"My dear, dear Mother."
She had stood up and was trying to look like a dutiful daughter. But he
made that very difficult by seizing her hand and drawing her down to his
side again.
"Don't you love me?" said he.
"If I did, I 've promised not to!" she replied firmly.
"What 's the use of that, if you do?" Jack did n't know it, but he had
put a question which undermined all first principles.
"_I_ keep my word!" she replied, with great dignity. It was no answer
to his question, but it saved her for the moment. The implied reproach
turned his position and forced him to be on the defensive.
"So do I!" he said, quite boldly and unabashed: so unabashed that she
could only stare at him in amazement and cry "Oh!"
"Differently," he explained. "I told my father; and I promised I 'd
stay away a week, to make sure. I 've made sure, and I 've come. Is n't
that keeping my word?"
Marjolaine was shaken, and he had stated his case so cunningly that she
could not, on the spur of the moment, put her finger on the weak
point--the truth being, that she did not want to. "It seems so, when
you tell it, but--"
"Do they want you to marry somebody else?" said he.
"No."
"Well, they want me to!" and he added with modest but conscious virtue,
"but I refused."
"That's it!" cried Marjolaine, remembering all the Admiral had
innocently let drop. "You 're a great man; by-and-by you 'll live in
marble halls; and you never said a word about it!"
"Hang it all!" cried Jack, protesting with all his might, "I told you my
name! I can't go about shouting I 'm a lord's son!"
But Marjolaine had not done. "And you 're going to marry a great lady
who owns half a county and goes about doing good. The Hon--Hon--" what
a nuisance it was that she could not keep her sobs down!--"the
Honourable Caroline Thring!--Oh, does n't it sound horrid!"
"I 'm not going to marry her!" Jack almost shouted. "And she does n't
want to marry me; and there 's only one girl in the world for me, and
that's you--you--you!"
He tried to draw her down again, but she resisted. Caroline Thring was
not the only obstacle. "Jack," she said, with tragic solemnity, "I 'm
the one girl in the world you can never marry!"
Her manner was so intense, that even Jack was, for the moment, awed.
"You speak as if you meant it!" he said, staring at her in astonishment.
"I do!" Her manner grew more and more solemn. She looked like the
Tragic Muse, and I am not sure she did not rather enjoy the impression
she was creating. Her voice rang deep and hollow. "We are fated to
part."
"Why on earth--?" cried Jack, almost frightened.
"It is a terrible secret," she answered. Then she suddenly sat down
beside him. "Sit close! Oh, closer!" Now she was a child again,
revelling in a good story. "Listen. Your father loved my mother when
they were both very young--"
"No!" cried Jack.
"'M. And he went on loving her for years and years and years! And then
he left her for ever, just as you left me last Saturday; and went and
married the Honourable Caroline Thring."
"What!" cried Jack, utterly bewildered.
"Oh, well--same thing--some other great lady."
Jack gave a low whistle.
"And Maman 's never forgotten it, just as I never should. And that's
why she fainted when she heard your name."
Jack whistled again. Then a new idea occurred to him. "That accounts
for my father's temper just now."
Marjolaine was puzzled. "Just now?" she asked.
"When I landed, he was here with your mother."
"Oh!" cried Marjolaine, astonished and frightened.
"Sir Peter told me," Jack went on. "It was a close shave. I had just
time to borrow the fisherman's coat and hat. When my father came away
he was perfectly furious. He did n't know me, but he swore at me
horribly."
Marjolaine nodded wisely. "You see! Maman had been telling him exactly
what she thought about him. Oh, Jack, they are enemies and we must part
forever." She stood up and resumed her finest tragedy-queen manner.
"It is what they call a blood-feud!"
Jack sprang to his feet. "Then we must marry to wipe it out!" he cried.
"Marjory, we must fly!"
"Fly--?"
"Fly!--run away!--elope!"
"Leave Maman--!" cried Marjolaine, very properly shocked. "I could n't
do it!"
"You 'd have to if we were married," he argued.
"Afterwards, perhaps," answered the ever-ready Marjolaine, "but not
before."
Jack thought he would clinch the matter. "We'll be married at once.
Then it'll be afterwards."
"No, no, no!!" cried Marjory. "It's no use." She turned to him with
pretty appeal. "Don't ask me, will you?" Then she went on in a tone of
middle-aged common-sense: "Besides, we can't be married at once. In
your stupid England, the parson has to ask the congregation three times
whether they have any objection. As if they could n't make up their
minds the first time! and as if it was any of their business at all!"
"Banns--! Hang!" said Jack, scratching his head. That helped him. "I
know!" he cried, "Licence!"
"Don't ask me!" She caressed his coat-collar coaxingly. "You won't ask
me, will you? What is a licence?"
"Well," said Jack, with an air of profound knowledge and experience,
"You go to a Bishop, and he gives you a document, and then you go to the
nearest church--and--and--there you are!"
"I don't believe you're there at all," she said, pouting. She turned
away in despair. "Oh, it's no use!" But she turned back with new hope.
"Do you know any Bishops?"
"Not one," said Jack, ruefully.
Her head rested on his shoulder, and made a prop for his. "It's
discouraging!" they both sighed, sinking on the seat in the Gazebo, and
looking as woe-begone as the Babes in the Wood.
Down came the rain, pattering on the leaves of the elm. The Eyesore had
come back, hatless and in his shirt sleeves, and had executed a brief
dance of delight over the three fish Jack had caught for him. He had
only got back just in time to avert disaster, for Sempronius, seeing the
Walk deserted, had been on the very point of raiding the fish. The
Eyesore sat on his box and resumed his melancholy sport, resigned to the
loss of his outer garment, oblivious of the rain, but keeping a wary eye
on the cat.
The Reverend Doctor Sternroyd emerged from his house. I say emerged,
because it was a slow and difficult manoeuvre. He was loaded as usual.
His green umbrella occupied his right arm, while his left encircled a
number of ancient tomes; so he had to come through his door sideways and
down his steps backwards, and the gate presented a new and complicated
problem. Then he discovered it was raining, and, of course, he tried to
open his umbrella while he was still under the arch of his gate. At the
best of times the opening of that umbrella was a matter of diplomacy and
patience. You did not open it just when you wanted to, but only when it
was willing. In a wind it would open itself and turn itself inside out;
but in a shower it needed coaxing. Its ribs all went in different
directions and it required the greatest skill to induce anything
approaching unanimity. The chances were that by the time you had got the
umbrella open, the shower had ceased and the sun was shining; and as it
was just as difficult to close it, you probably gave up, and resigned
yourself to looking eccentric.
The Reverend Doctor got inextricably mixed up with his books, his
half-open umbrella, and the gate. He felt he must use strong language.
"Tut, tut!" said he.
Marjolaine heard him. "Hush!" she whispered, warningly.
"Why?" asked Jack.
She peeped round the edge of the Gazebo. "The Reverend Doctor Sternroyd
coming out of his gate!"
"A parson?" Jack almost shouted.
"Yes."
"By George!" exclaimed Jack; and while she was gasping, "What are you
going to do?" he had rushed across the lawn and slapped the Doctor on
the back.
"Dear me!" cried the startled Doctor, as his books slid from under his
arm and the umbrella opened with a report like a gun's. "Dear me! Tut,
tut!"
"I beg your pardon, Doctor," Jack apologised, picking up the books and
helping the parson through the gate. Then he seized him by the sleeve
and dragged him bewildered and protesting to the Gazebo.
[Illustration: HE SEIZED HIM BY THE SLEEVE, AND DRAGGED HIM, BEWILDERED
AND PROTESTING, TO THE GAZEBO]
"Sempronius! Sempronius!" cried Mrs. Poskett, appearing at her window.
"Come in, you bad cat, you 'll get wet through!"
But Sempronius was deeply engrossed, and Mrs. Poskett closed her window
in despair.
Meanwhile Jack had forced the outraged Doctor down on to the seat,
Marjolaine had relieved him of the umbrella, and Jack had tossed his
books into a corner.
"Sit down, Doctor," said Jack, "here, between us."
"But, my dear young friends--" began the Doctor, protestingly.
"You'd get your feet wet, Sir, and catch cold. My name's Jack Sayle."
Marjolaine interrupted him. "His name is the Honourable John Sayle,"
she explained with great importance, "and he's the only son of Lord
Otford."
She had touched a spring. If there was one thing the Doctor was more
familiar with than another, it was heraldry. He started off like an
alarm clock, and all the exclamations and gesticulations of the
impatient lovers were incapable of stopping him.
[Illustration: HE STARTED OFF LIKE AN ALARM CLOCK]
"Otford: or, on a fesse azure between in chief, a sinister arm embowed
and couped at the shoulder fessewise vested of the second, holding in
the hand proper a martel gules, and in base a cerf regardant passant
vert, three martlets of the first. Crest: out of a crest-coronet a
blasted oak--"
"Oh!" cried Marjory, stopping her ears.
"--motto: Sayle and Return."
"Doctor!" shouted Jack, shaking him, "when you 've quite done, we want
to get married; and you 've got to get a licence!"
The boy and girl were leaning excitedly across him. They spoke
alternately and breathlessly.
"Because," said Marjolaine, "we 're in a dreadful hurry and Maman won't
hear of it--"
"And my father wants me to marry Caroline Thring, which is wicked--"
"And of course I'll never do it, and it's no use asking me, but--"
"We're going to be married anyhow, and if you don't help we shall run
away--"
"And you would n't like to be the cause of our doing that, would you?"
She had slipped to her knees.
"And we love each other--" Jack also was on his knees, facing her.
"Very, very dearly!" they both concluded. And to the horror of the
learned Doctor, their lips met.
He rose, indignant. "I am deeply shocked. Profoundly surprised. I
shall make a point of informing Madame Lachesnais and his lordship."
Jack leapt to his feet. "Oh, I say, you can't, you know!" he protested,
"because we took you into our confidence!"
The antiquary was as nearly angry as he had ever been in his life. "I
did not ask for your confidence!" he exclaimed.
"Well--you've got it!" said Jack, conclusively.
Marjolaine laid her hand on the Doctor's arm and looked up at him with
great pathetic eyes--the stricken deer. "And, Doctor, dear--think of
when you were young!"
"Eh?" said the Doctor, startled. "How did you know?--And if I did run
away with my blessed Araminta--"
"Ah!--there, you see!" cried Jack, delighted.
"--I had every excuse," protested the Doctor. "My blessed Araminta was
deeply interested in flint arrowheads."
"And I 'm sure you were very, very happy," said Marjolaine, laying her
hand on his shoulder.
The Doctor looked at her. The Doctor dug his snuff-box out of a remote
waistcoat-pocket. The Doctor took snuff. The Doctor drew out a great,
brown handkerchief. The Doctor blew his nose. His snuff was very
strong, and had made his eyes water. Finally he said, "Ah, my child,
she has been dead thirty years!"
"Dear Doctor Sternroyd!" murmured Marjolaine.
He pulled himself together. "But this is so harebrained! A special
licence is not so easily had. His Grace, the Archbishop of
Canterbury--"
"Oh, my goodness! an _Arch_bishop!"--cried Marjolaine, deeply impressed.
"The Archbishop of Canterbury requires excellent reasons."
"I 've told you," cried Jack impatiently, "we love each other!"
The antiquary could not help smiling. "I fear that would hardly satisfy
his Grace!"
"Wicked old gentleman!" pouted Marjolaine.
"We'll find a reason," said Jack, confidently; and after a moment's
thought: "Here you are! My leave 's up in a month: only just time for
the honeymoon!"
"H'm!" said the Antiquary. "Even that does not seem to me sufficiently
convincing."
He had risen, and now turned and looked at them as they sat watching him
eagerly and hopefully. They looked so charming, so young, so innocent,
and so deeply in love with each other, that the Doctor was touched. For
years he had been buried in his musty old books, and suddenly he was
confronted with life, with youth starting out on its career. It would
be good to make these children happy.
"I have an idea," he said, with a humorous twinkle. "The Archbishop,
who is a very good friend of mine, is forming a collection of
antiquities. Now--" he searched in all his pockets--"I found a rare
Elizabethan tobacco-pipe here the other day." He produced it and
polished it carefully on his sleeve. Marjolaine, I am sorry to say, hid
her face in her handkerchief, and was attacked by a fit of coughing
which shook her from head to foot. "Perhaps," continued the Doctor,
eyeing the pipe with fond regret, "perhaps if I were to offer that to
his Grace, it might oil the wheels." He sighed deeply. "Yes!--It will
be a wrench, but I 'll take it to Lambeth to-morrow--Ah, no! To-morrow
is Sunday!"
"Dash it!" cried Jack, petulantly. "What a way Sunday has of coming in
the wrong part of the week!"
"Hush!" said Doctor Sternroyd, reprovingly, "Monday, then."
"And you'll marry us the same day?" asked Jack.
"No, no!" replied the Doctor. "The day after, perhaps."
Marjolaine ticked the days off on her fingers.
"Saturday--Sunday--Monday--Tuesday--! Four whole days!--"
The lovers looked at each other disconsolately, and together sighed,
"Oh, dear!"
"And what am I to do till then?" cried Jack. "I daren't go home. My
father 's quite capable of having me kidnapped and sent to my ship!"