Part 13 (2/2)
”Our initials!” he murmured, seizing upon the one word which he had understood and which was useful to him. ”Let us carve our initials now.
You and I--a heart if you like it, and an arrow and everything.
H.W.--E.B.”
”H.W.,” she repeated, ”and E.B.”
He took out his penknife and drew her away in search of an unsullied tree. ”E.B., Eternal Blessing. Mine! Mine! My haven from the world! My temple of purity. Oh the spiritual exaltation--you cannot understand it, but you will! Oh, the seclusion of Paradise. Year after year alone together, all in all to each other--year after year, soul to soul, E.B., Everlasting Bliss!”
He stretched out his hand to cut the initials. As he did so she seemed to awake from a dream. ”Harcourt!” she cried, ”Harcourt! What's that?
What's that red stuff on your finger and thumb?”
III
Oh, my goodness! Oh, all ye G.o.ddesses and G.o.ds! Here's a mess. Mr.
Worters has been reading Ford's inflammatory note-book.
”This my own fault,” said Ford. ”I should have labelled it 'Practically Private.' How could he know he was not meant to look inside?”
I spoke out severely, as an _employe_ should. ”My dear boy, none of that. The label came unstuck. That was why Mr. Worters opened the book.
He never suspected it was private. See--the label's off.”
”Scratched off,” Ford retorted grimly, and glanced at his ankle.
I affect not to understand. ”The point is this. Mr. Worters is thinking the matter over for four-and-twenty hours. If you take my advice you will apologize before that time elapses.”
”And if I don't?”
”You know your own affairs of course. But don't forget that you are young and practically ignorant of life, and that you have scarcely any money of your own. As far as I can see, your career practically depends on the favour of Mr. Worters. You have laughed at him. He does not like being laughed at. It seems to me that your course is obvious.”
”Apology?”
”Complete.”
”And if I don't?”
”Departure.”
He sat down on the stone steps and rested his head on his knees. On the lawn below us was Miss Beaumont, draggling about with some croquet b.a.l.l.s. Her lover was out in the meadow, superintending the course of the asphalt path. For the path is to be made, and so is the bridge, and the fence is to be built round Other Kingdom after all. In time Miss Beaumont saw how unreasonable were her objections. Of her own accord, one evening in the drawing-room, she gave her Harcourt permission to do what he liked. ”That wood looks nearer,” said Ford.
”The inside fences have gone: that brings it nearer. But my dear boy--you must settle what you're going to do.”
”How much has he read?”
”Naturally he only opened the book. From what you showed me of it, one glance would be enough.”
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