Part 25 (2/2)
Imagine two invisible personalities dodging and doubling, springing and darting. That will give you some idea. And all without a flutter of pa.s.sion or real interest. It is good exercise for the lighter wits, but stupid at best.” He did not add that the very essence of flirtation is its promise of more to come.
It was some time before Magdalena spoke again. Then she asked,--
”What did Helena say when you told her your name?”
”I believe she said, 'Great Heaven!'”
”I think this must be the cemetery.”
They ascended the rough hill, and pushed their way through weeds and thistles and wild oats to the dilapidated stones under the oaks.
Magdalena had imagined her conflicting emotions when she visited the graves of her youthful heroines; among other things the delightful sense of unreality. But the unreality was of another sort to-day. They were a part of an insignificant past. Trennahan elevated one foot to a ma.s.sive stone and plucked the ”stickers” from his trousers.
”This is all very romantic,” he said, ”but these confounded things are uncomfortable. Have you found your graves?”
”I think this is Benicia's. We can go if you like.”
”By no means.” He went and leaned over the sunken grey stone which recorded the legend of Benicia Ortega's brief life and tragic death, then insisted upon finding the others.
”You don't take any interest,” said Magdalena. ”Why do you pretend?”
He caught her in his arms and seated her on the highest and driest of the tombs, then sat beside her. He kept his arm about her, but he did not kiss her. ”Come now,” he said, ”let us have it out. We must not quarrel. I humble myself to the dust. I vow to be a saint. I will not exchange two consecutive sentences with your friend in the future. Make me promise all sorts of things.”
”If you love her, you can't help yourself.”
”I have no intention of loving her. Perhaps you will be as sweet and sensible as you always are, and not say anything so absurd again. I am deeply sorry that I have offended you. Will you believe that? And will you forgive me?”
”Do you mean that you still wish to marry me?”
”Great Heaven, 'Lena! Even if my head were turned, do you think that I have not brains enough to remember that that sort of thing is a matter of the hour only, and that I am a man of honour? I have no less intention of marrying you to-day than I had yesterday. Does that satisfy you? And--since you take it so hardly--I wish I might never see Miss Belmont again.”
Magdalena raised her eyes; they were full of tears. Her hat was pushed back, her soft hair ruffled. In the deep shade of the oaks and with the pa.s.sion in her face she looked prettier than he had ever seen her. A kiss sprang to her lips. He bent his head swiftly and caught it; and then he was delighted at the depth of his penitence.
”'Lena, you ought to hate me, but I didn't know! I swear I didn't!”
”I know you did not. He told me that it was entirely his fault, and I have forgiven him; so don't let us say any more about it.”
”Well, I am glad he admitted that. I'm pretty selfish, as I've never denied, but I'd never be disloyal. Not to you, anyhow,” she added on second thoughts. ”I shouldn't mind Ila so much, nor Caro.”
”You don't mean to say you would take any girl's lover away from her, Helena?”
”Yes, I would if I wanted him badly. But I'd do it right out before her face. I'd never be underhand about it. I loathe deceit. I was furious for a time with Mr. Trennahan last night, but I really believe I was more furious because he was the most interesting man I had ever met and I couldn't have him, than because he hadn't behaved quite properly.”
Magdalena reached her right hand to a bow on her left shoulder, that Helena should not see the sudden leap of her heart. ”Do you mean to say that you had--had intended to--to--add him to the quartette?”
”I had had a very definite idea of turning the entire quartette out in his favour. I don't mind telling you that, because wild horses couldn't make me so much as flirt an eyelash at him again; and of course it was only one of my pa.s.sing fancies. Nothing goes very deep with me. I'm made on a magnificent plan. So is he. We'll both have forgotten last evening before the end of the week. I hate the morning after a ball, don't you?
One always feels so devitalised. Wasn't Ila's gown disgracefully low?
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