"Good morning, Mr.--Mr. Aikin-Payne," said Ruby Estcourt, stumbling
timidly over the name, as we met in the _salle-a-manger_ at breakfast
next day. "I hope you don't feel any the worse for the chilly air last
evening."
I bowed slightly. "You seem to have some difficulty in remembering my
full name, Miss Estcourt," I said suggestively. "Suppose you call me
simply Mr. Payne. I've been accustomed to it till quite lately, and to
tell you the truth, I don't altogether relish the new addition."
"I should think not, indeed," Ruby answered frankly. "I never heard such
a ridiculous combination in all my life before. I'm sure your uncle must
have been a perfect old bear to impose it upon you."
"It was certainly rather cruel of him," I replied, as carelessly as I
could, "or at least rather thoughtless. I dare say, though, the
absurdity of the two names put together never struck him. What are you
going to do with yourselves to-day, Mr. Shackleford? Everybody at Cannes
has nothing to do but to amuse themselves, I suppose?"
Mr. Shackleford answered that they were going to drive over in the
morning to Vallauris, and that if I cared to share a carriage with them,
he would be happy to let me accompany his party. Nothing could have
suited my book better. I was alone, I wanted society and amusement, and
I had never seen a prettier girl than Ruby Estcourt. Here was the very
thing I needed, ready cut out to my hand by propitious fortune. I found
out as time went on that Mr. Shackleford, being a person of limited
income, and a bad walker, had only one desire in life, which was to get
somebody else to pay half his carriage fares for him by arrangement. We
went to a great many places together, and he always divided the expenses
equally between us, although I ought only to have paid a quarter, as his
party consisted of three people, while I was one solitary bachelor. This
apparent anomaly he got over on the ingenious ground that if I had taken
a carriage by myself it would have cost me just twice as much. However,
as I was already decidedly anxious for pretty little Ruby Estcourt's
society, this question of financial detail did not weigh heavily upon
me. Besides, a man who has just come into twelve hundred a year can
afford to be generous in the matter of hackney carriages.
We had a delightful drive along the shore of that beautiful blue gulf to
Vallauris, and another delightful drive back again over the hills to the
Paradis. True, old Mr. Shackleford proved rather a bore through his
anxiety to instruct me in the history and technical nature of keramic
ware in general, and of the Vallauris pottery in particular, when I
wanted rather to be admiring the glimpses of Bordighera and the Cap St.
Martin and the snow-clad summits of the Maritime Alps with Ruby
Estcourt. But in spite of all drawbacks--and old Mr. Shackleford with
his universal information really _was_ a serious drawback--I thoroughly
enjoyed that first morning by the lovely Mediterranean. Ruby herself was
absolutely charming. Such a light, bright, fairy-like little person,
moving among the priceless vases and tazzas at Clement Massier's as if
she were an embodied zephyr, too gentle even to knock them over with a
whiff of her little Rampoor shawl--but there, I can't describe her, and
I won't attempt it. Ruby, looking over my shoulder at this moment, says
I always was an old stupid: so that, you see, closes the question.
An old stupid I certainly was for the next fortnight. Old Mr.
Shackleford, only too glad to have got hold of a willing victim in the
carriage-sharing fraud, dragged me about the country to every available
point of view or object of curiosity within ten miles of the Square
Brougham. Ruby usually accompanied us; and as the two old people
naturally occupied the seat of honour at the back of the carriage, why,
of course Ruby and I had to sit together with our backs to the horses--a
mode of progression which I had never before known to be so agreeable.
Every evening, Ruby and I walked out on the terrace in the moonlight;
and I need hardly say that the moon, in spite of her pretended coldness,
is really the most romantic and sentimental satellite in the whole solar
system. To cut a long story short, by the end of the fortnight I was
very distinctly in love with Ruby; and if you won't think the avowal a
conceited one, I venture to judge by the sequel that Ruby was almost
equally in love with me.
One afternoon, towards the close of my second week at Cannes, Ruby and I
were sitting together on the retired seat in the grounds beside the pond
with the goldfish. It was a delicious sunny afternoon, with the last
touch of southern summer in the air, and Ruby was looking even prettier
than usual, in her brocade pattern print dress, and her little straw hat
with the scarlet poppies. (Ruby always dressed--I may say dresses--in
the very simplest yet most charming fashion). There was something in the
time and place that moved me to make a confession I had for some time
been meditating; so I looked straight in her face, and not being given
to long speeches, I said to her just this, "Ruby, you are the sweetest
girl I ever saw in my life. Will you marry me?"
Ruby only looked at me with a face full of merriment, and burst out
laughing. "Why, Mr. Payne," she said (she had dropped that hideous
prefix long ago), "you've hardly known me yet a fortnight, and here you
come to me with a regular declaration. How can I have had time to think
about my answer to such a point-blank question?"
"If you like, Ruby," I answered, "we can leave it open for a little; but
it occurs to me you might as well say 'yes' at once: for if we leave it
open, common sense teaches me that you probably mean to say yes in the
long-run." And to clench the matter outright, I thought it best to stoop
across and kiss Ruby just once, by way of earnest. Ruby took the kiss
calmly and sedately; so then I knew the matter was practically settled.
"But there's one thing, Mr. Payne, I must really insist upon," Ruby said
very quietly; "and that is that I mustn't be called Mrs. Aikin-Payne. If
I marry you at all, I must marry you as plain Mr. Payne without any
Aikin. So that's clearly understood between us."
Here was a terrible condition indeed! I reasoned with Ruby, I explained
to Ruby, I told Ruby that if she positively insisted upon it I must go
back to my three hundred a year and my paltry schoolmastership, and must
give up my uncle Aikin's money. Ruby would hear of no refusal.
"You have always the alternative of marrying somebody else, you know,
Mr. Payne," she said with her most provoking and bewitching smile; "but
if you really do want to marry me, you know the conditions."
"But, Ruby, you would never care to live upon a miserable pittance of
three hundred a year! I hate the name as much as you do, but I think I
should try to bear it for the sake of twelve hundred a year and perfect
comfort."
No, Ruby was inexorable. "Take me or leave me," she said with provoking
calmness, "but if you take me, give up your uncle's ridiculous
suggestion. You can have three days to make your mind up. Till then, let
us hear no more about the subject."