As soon as the words "Wallace Armstrong, what has become of Laline
Garth?" had left her lips, Laline's heart sank within her. On Wallace's
answer very much depended. And at first he did not answer, but only
drew his level black brows near together and stared straight before him
at his horse's head.
"I cannot imagine," he said at length, after a pause which seemed
interminable to the girl by his side, "why you ask me that now. It is
such a sad and painful subject, and I meant to-day to be so happy. What
is the use of trying to revive a dead past?"
"Do you never think of it?" she asked.
"Never, if I can help it! I suppose you heard the whole affair from my
uncle? Whether you blame me or not, I don't see that I could have acted
otherwise."
"And you never think of her?"
"Never!" he answered, calmly. "Why should I? The poor child is long ago
dead."
"Dead?"
"Yes. Surely my uncle told you that?"
"Yes--no--I don't remember. How do you know that she is dead?"
"I saw her grave. Why, how white you are, and how excited you seem! Why
do you take such a strange interest in the girl?"
"I--I am sorry for her," faltered Laline.
She could not understand it. Was it some trick of her father's, she
wondered--and did Wallace really believe her to be dead?
"What became of that Captain Garth who wrote the letter to your uncle?"
she inquired, suddenly.
"Oh, that old sinner? He died of apoplexy two years ago, having enjoyed
a handsome annuity from my soft-hearted uncle on the strength of the
poor girl Laline having been his niece. But, dearest, if you knew how
much I hate the subject, you would not, I am sure, compel me to discuss
it."
"I will say no more about it now," she observed, quietly.
In spite of the quick drive through the keen air she was very pale. His
news had strangely affected her, and the certainty that her father was
dead moved her deeply. She tried to remember all that was good about
him, and recalled on the instant many little acts of careless kindness
which until then she had forgotten. All the Boulogne life came before
her again in its sordid daily details, and she saw herself as Wallace
had first seen her--an over-grown child in a short blue-cotton gown,
with her long hair floating over her shoulders under her "Zulu" hat.
A barrier seemed suddenly to have arisen between her and Wallace. His
belief that she was dead complicated things; and the fact that he
clearly disliked all allusion to the events which occurred at Boulogne
distressed Laline. Sooner or later she would have to enlighten him as
to her identity; and might not this news go far to weaken his passion
for her? Troubled with these thoughts, she sat still and silent, with
big tears gathering in her eyes, hearing without listening to Wallace's
light-hearted talk about indifferent subjects.
"Lina," he suddenly exclaimed, "you have tears in your eyes! What is
the matter, darling?"
"I don't know. A fit of the blues, I suppose."
"You want exercise and amusement, that's what it is," he said,
decisively. "My plan for to-day will do you all the good in the world.
That room of Mrs. Vandeleur's isn't good for you. The mental atmosphere
is unnatural; you are growing to look ghostlike yourself in it!"
"I am quite well," she said, rousing herself from her reverie. "But
where are we? I don't know much about London yet, and I am very
near-sighted, and have been thinking of something else. But surely this
is a part of the world I haven't been in before?"
"This is Baker Street, and we are on our way to Regent's Park and
Hampstead. We shall stop at my uncle's Hampstead house, the Homestead,
and have some skating in the grounds; then Mrs. Sylvester the
housekeeper will give us tea, and I will drive you back home in good
time this evening."
"But it's just like an elopement!" she protested.
"Well, you must blame my uncle for that, and not me. It is he who
arranged the whole thing, and telegraphed to Mrs. Sylvester that we
were coming. I always run over to the Homestead once or twice a week to
see that the horses aren't eating their heads off. I intended driving
over this afternoon if I had not been going out with you; and it was my
uncle who declared that you must see the place and judge whether you
would like to live in it."
"To live in it!" she repeated, in astonishment. "You and your uncle,"
she added, "seemed to have settled everything between you in a very
remarkable manner, without the preliminary formality of consulting me.
Pray, when did you arrange these nice little plans together?"
"As soon as you had left the house last Wednesday. My uncle was already
aware that I was in love with one of you two younger ladies, but did
not know which, and he was overjoyed when he found it was you. You won
his heart by listening to his long stories, even if he hadn't been
charmed by your lovely face and voice."
"I always understood," Laline put in, demurely, "that you made your
first visit to Mrs. Vandeleur's house in the character of Clare Cavan's
admirer?"
"I did and do admire Miss Cavan very much," he answered, promptly.
"I should like to paint her as Vivien charming Merlin, both of them
in modern evening-dress, with Miss Cavan showing off her beautiful
white neck and arms for a senile and rather Jewish-looking Merlin's
edification. Miss Cavan represents a very attractive type, but not the
type I should care to marry."
"You talk," she said, with a touch of impatience in her tone, "as
though any girl would jump at the chance of marrying you!"
"I certainly don't mean to convey that impression," he retorted;
"although I am sorry to say that many girls I meet would be delighted
to marry Alexander Wallace's nephew, whatever he might be like--old,
ugly, deformed, or hateful--just for the sake of Alexander Wallace's
money!"
"And is it that belief," she asked, blushing hotly, "which made you so
confident in my case?"
"Lina," he exclaimed, in reproachful tones, "why do you ask me such a
question? It is neither fair to yourself nor to me."
"Well, I get annoyed when you show how sure you felt of winning me,"
she explained, apologetically.
"Of course," he said, flicking his horse's ears reflectively with his
whip--"of course I knew that in time I should worry you into saying
'Yes.' But at first I own I was a good deal troubled by the strange
look of repulsion and even a fear that came into your lovely eyes when
you looked at me. You remember when, as I left the house after my first
visit, I turned and looked back and caught you watching my departure
from a window on the ground-floor?"
"I remember."
"Well, your look then was one of terror and dislike combined, which
simply struck dismay into my soul. Tell me, Lina--why did you look at
me like that?"
"You reminded me of some one whom I used to know and dislike four years
and a half ago," she answered, faintly.
She half hoped that the date she gave would form a link in his mind;
but her words evidently conveyed to him no hint of her intention, for
he only laughed.
"Four years and a half ago you must have been such a very little girl
that your prejudices were probably wholly unreasonable," he said,
cheerfully. "How old are you now, Lina?"
"Twenty."
"As old as that? I thought you were fully two years younger. Well,
Lina, there is just the right difference between us. What does
Shakspere say?--
'Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.'
Our marriage will be ideal in every way."
"If I marry you."
"If! You won't be able to help yourself. How slowly this mare is going!"
"Slowly! We seem to me to be skimming over the ground!"
"Ah, but that's because you are not so anxious as I to get there!"
Laline glanced shyly up at him, and her heart began to suddenly beat
quicker. She had never yet been made love to in her life, but she felt
certain that Wallace was counting the moments until he could claim the
kiss out of which Clare Cavan's sudden entrance had defrauded him on
the preceding Wednesday. For the first time it became strongly borne
in upon her mind that she was doing something altogether startling
and unconventional in thus accompanying a young man, against whose
character very serious accusations had been made, to his country-house
without the necessary sacrifice to Mrs. Grundy provided by the presence
of a chaperon. But, after all, was she not engaged to him, with his
uncle's full sanction--and was he not by law her natural guardian and
protector, being in very truth her husband?
Looking at him under the bright, clear light of a frosty winter sun,
Laline could see in Wallace's face no signs at all of the vices and
follies attributed to him. The study of his features, on the other
hand, filled her with a secret delight and pride of possession which
thrilled through her entire being. This was essentially a manly man,
handsome, erect, full of life, strength, and vigour--a man whose mere
outward appearance attracted long and admiring glances from women of
all ranks as he drove along, and whose driving and perfectly neat and
smart turn-out drew towards him looks of approbation from masculine
equals and inferiors alike. And he was not only her husband, but in
love with her--a man wealthy, popular, and much sought after, who had
gone out of his way to implore her, a little penniless dependant, to
be his wife.
They were driving up a steep hill by this time, not far from Hampstead
Heath.
"That is the Homestead," Wallace said, indicating with his whip the
tall stacks of chimneys of a large white house peering from among trees
near the summit of the hill.
Laline felt glad of both Wallace's and Mrs. Vandeleur's recent
additions to her wardrobe as she drove in the dog-cart through the
lodge-gates of the Homestead. Clearly the rumour that the young
master was bringing down his future bride had spread abroad, for the
lodge-keeper came out to pull his forelock and smile, with his wife
curtseying and smiling behind him.
At the house--a big rambling erection, decked with ivy and creepers,
and wearing an air of homelike comfort--Mrs. Sylvester, a plump,
middle-aged, gray-haired woman, came out in an evident flutter of
excitement and her best silk dress and cape to welcome the visitors.
Mrs. Sylvester wanted nothing better than for the young master to marry
and instal himself at the Homestead, to impart a little liveliness to
the establishment, and prevent it from being let to strangers, and she
was delighted with the appearance of Mr. Armstrong's _fiancée_.
"Quite the lady!" she confided afterwards to the cook, in discussing
Laline's appearance. "As handsome as you may wish to see, though p'raps
a bit too thin for some people's tastes; but that only makes her more
elegant. A sweet face, cook, and dressed in the height of fashion. That
sable collarette she was wearing must have cost thirty or forty pounds;
and her black velvet hat and cape were quite the latest fashion. For my
part, I like a young lady with some style about her."
Big fires had been lit everywhere about the house in accordance with
old Mr. Wallace's orders, so that Laline might be favourably impressed
with the place, and by her own request she was presently shown over the
identical rooms prepared for her reception when she had been expected
as a bride four years before. These rooms wore by this time a more or
less faded and neglected air; but the affectionate forethought with
which the whole suite had at first been planned touched Laline deeply
as she wandered through the pretty sitting-room, furnished with books
and piano, the daintily-appointed dressing-room and bath-room, and the
cosy little study fitted with every trifle necessary to the mistress of
a household.
After the inspection was over, Laline found Wallace waiting for her in
the drawing-room at the back of the house, which led into the grounds
through a spacious conservatory. A large fire was burning in the
fireplace, and, as the door closed on Mrs. Sylvester, Wallace drew his
betrothed towards the friendly blaze.
"You must get your hands warm before you go out again," he said. "You
must have got cold sitting still in the cart."
Standing with her in front of the fire, he drew up her hands against
his neck, and looked down into her eyes, his own alight with love.
"At last we are alone," he whispered. "Lina, do you love me?"
"I'm afraid I do."
"Then put your arms round my neck of your own accord and kiss me.
See--I let them go. It must be of your own accord."
Her hands crept gently up until they were clasped behind his neck, and
her soft lips fluttered lightly upon his for a second, until, with a
sigh of content, he folded his arms about her, and kissed her again and
again with all his soul in his lips.
"My darling--my Lina--my wife!"
It seemed to Laline that all her life through she had been waiting for
this moment, and that no future happiness could equal this of the first
kiss of love given and returned.
"To think that I have let you grow to twenty before I claimed you!" he
exclaimed, while they stood together before the fire and he stroked
her soft hair as she pillowed her cheek on his shoulder. "Ever since I
first came to Mrs. Vandeleur's, and you dropped that magic crystal at
sight of me, I have dreamed of this moment. For though you seemed to be
so strangely afraid of me in life, in my dreams you were always just as
you are now, with my arms about you and your head on my shoulder; and
I knew the moment would soon come when my dreams would come true. From
the very first I knew that you belonged to me by right and must be mine
some day."
"That is only because you happened to take a fancy to me," she
protested, perversely. "Supposing that I had been married to some one
else, where would your presentiments have been then?"
"Ah, but you couldn't have looked as you did if you had been married to
any one else, or if you had loved any one else! I know--I am certain
that you never cared for any one before. But tell me so; I like to hear
it."
She laid her hands upon his shoulders and drew a little away from him,
looking earnestly into his eyes.
"I solemnly swear," she said, "that I have never in my life known
what it was to love before, and that I love you with my whole heart!
There--will that satisfy you?"
"And when will you be my wife?"
"Oh, not for a long time yet."
"Why not? Don't you wish to be always with me?" he demanded, jealously.
"Yes; but you hardly know me. We must be at least engaged long enough
to make each other's acquaintance. I shall want to hear all your past
life; you will want to hear all mine----"
"Your past life is written in your face, dear. All I want to read is
there."
"But there are things which you must hear--things which may anger and
surprise you, and even make you cease to love me."
He held her from him at arm's length while he scanned her face intently.
"There is only one thing I care to know," he said. "Has any man ever
kissed your lips before?"
"Never!"
"There," he cried triumphantly, folding her in his arms again and
covering her cheeks and lips and eyes with quick kisses--"that is all
I want to know and all I will listen to! Come outside now and skate,
or we shall deeply wound the feelings of the men who have been all the
morning clearing the ice from show. Let me help you to put on your hat.
If you look up at me under the brim like that I shall never let you get
outside, but shall spend the entire afternoon kissing you! Your lips
are as soft as a rose-leaf, and you have been allowed to grow to twenty
without being forcibly carried off and married, whether you consented
or not! Waiting for me, my dear, beautiful Lina? One last kiss before
we leave the conservatory, and one more on that enchanting little pink
ear, and one more still on the soft cream-coloured space behind your
ear, where the gold-brown hair grows! Here we are at the conservatory
door. A moment more, and I sha'n't be able to kiss you. Just stop long
enough to tell me that you love me. No more 'Mr. Armstrong;' call me
by my second name, as my uncle does--'Lorin.' My name is Wallace Lorin
Armstrong. Now say that you love me and are glad to be my wife."
Tears were in her eyes as she obeyed him--tears of intense happiness
after long years of loneliness and separation.
"I love you, Lorin dear," she murmured, in tender, trembling tones;
"and I am glad with all my heart and soul to be your wife!"