Volume Ii Part 6 (1/2)
”They are most welcome,” cried Rose, impatiently. ”Do not let us bother about them any more.” There was an angry colour in her cheek, and fire in her eye, and the sound of her voice grated harshly.
Lettice began to wonder if her story had been judicious, or well-timed. She was Rose's stanch friend and partisan, willing to do or think whatever Rose might like best. It was in espousing Rose's side that she felt hostile to Gilbert; but she began to doubt, now, if what she had been telling appeared to Rose as droll as to herself. And yet every one said that Rose had such a sense of humour!
There was silence between the friends. They no longer sauntered, but stepped out quickly, Rose hurrying the pace with strides of varying length, till Lettice had difficulty in keeping up with her. Each fibre of her frame was strung into fierce activity. She even s.n.a.t.c.hed the fan, hanging idly from her waist, as if its dangling were a provocation. She opened and closed it rudely once or twice, till some of the slender ribs gave way and got entangled; then, with an impatient gesture, caught it by both ends and broke the thing across, and flung it from her. And then she stopped, with the empty chain between her fingers, and turned to her companion with a short, dry laugh.
”You will say I am in one of my tempers, Lettie, dear. You are good to bear with me.... You are out of breath, too. Come, let's walk slower.
I have something to tell you.”
”Something nice, Rose? What is it, dearest?”
”Pray, not that tender sympathetic tone, Lettice, 'an you love me,' as they say in the theatre, or you will drive me wild. What is there to condole about?... Nothing that I can see. If people who are strangers to me--whom I have said a hundred times I will have none of--want to marry, what is it to me?”
”Nothing, dear, nothing,” Lettice answered soothingly. ”Nothing whatever to you.”
”It is less than nothing; for I am going to be married myself--at least I am engaged. Wish me joy, dear. You are the first to be told.”
”You are? I knew you would be, from the first. You liked him the first day you saw him. Indeed I wish you happiness. I am quite sure you will be happy, dear.” And they embraced; or Lettice did, at least. Rose submitted rather than joined in the caress, and there was a look of deep self-pity in her face, as if she doubted about the happiness which her friend foretold. Her eyes moistened, and then, with a start which was half a sob, she recovered herself, and put her arm through her friend's, and turned homewards.
”And how did it happen, dear? Tell me all about it.”
”The usual way, dear; though people do say these things are never done twice alike. You have some experience, yourself, about it, I fancy; though you are so good to the poor fellows, that you never betray them, or divulge their disappointment.”
”It is bad enough for them to be refused, without being laughed at into the bargain.... But tell me about the accepting, at least. I have no experience of that. Is it not hard to say yes, and not feel the least bit ashamed of one's self?”
”One does not remember one's own part in the tragedy so well. One grows bewildered at such a time. I am not sure that one knows exactly what one says or does. But the gentleman seems to understand. That is the main point.”
”And what did _he_ say then?... I declare, Rose, you are telling me nothing!”
”He said scarcely anything. I did not think a man could say so little, to mean so much. It was the way he did it--the way he was so still--the sound of his voice--his touch. He meant it all, Lettie, so deeply. It was in that he was so strong. One seemed to feel it in the air about him. It was overwhelming. And oh, dear, I feel so small and worthless beside the earnestness of that man's love! I feel humbled, I am so little worthy of love like his.”
”The proof that you are worthy, is his having given it to you.... I declare!” The last exclamation had escaped her involuntarily. Her roving eyes had alighted on the figures of Gilbert Roe and Maida Springer together upon the sands at a distance.
Rose lifted her eyes from the ground, which they had sought while she was making her confidences, and turned them in the direction to which Lettice was looking. She saw, and the view communicated a shock, which thrilled through all her frame. Again her colour rose, and her teeth were set, and she grasped the arm of her friend. The pathetic drooping of her eyelids had vanished, and the lights beneath them flashed like living coals. She said nothing, but she quickened her steps--they had turned, some time before, when her mood had changed from fiery to pathetic--and now they were back within the shadow of the hotel, extending itself to the eastward and the south as day declined.
Upon the gallery, along beyond the entrance, she saw Joseph Naylor, with his feet on the bal.u.s.ters and his chair tilted back, a newspaper before him and a cigar between his teeth, enjoying the tranquil afternoon. ”I shall go in now, Lettice, dear; but do not let me drag you indoors so early. There is something I wanted to mention to Mr Naylor, and there he is, above and disengaged.”
Lettice strolled away and soon found other company. Rose hurried forward alone, her eyes still flas.h.i.+ng and her cheek aflame. There was no one on the gallery but Naylor, no one on the ground below looking up or taking heed; the moment was as private as though they had been again on Fessenden's Island.
”I fear I vexed you this morning in the boat,” she said, coming upon him unexpectedly where he sat.
He looked up from his paper, let it fall, and sprang to his feet, throwing his cigar away. ”Impossible, my dearest, even if you were to try. You have made me the very happiest man alive.”
”But I was cross, though I did not mean it, and refused to take off my glove. It is off now. There!” and she held out her hand. ”I have been looking for an opportunity to make it up. I was sleepy and out of sorts, I think.”
”No wonder, with no bed to sleep in last night. But do not dream of apologising. You shall be cross with me whenever it so shall please you, and not a word to be said in amends when you are minded to relent.”
”You will spoil me; it is not safe to be too wors.h.i.+pful with women.
There is the finger you were good enough to want to measure.”
CHAPTER XXVI.