Part 23 (1/2)

I spoke exactly as I used to do when I was a little child. I took his hand and drew him imperiously outside the door.

”Father,” I whispered, ”Lord Hawtrey did--oh, very, very kindly, too--he _did_ ask me last night to marry him, and oh! he was most good--but, darlingest Daddy, I could not marry him, for I do not love him one bit--I mean, not that way, Daddy. Why, Daddy, he is old enough to be my father, and I only want one father, and you are he; but I do--yes, I do care for Vernon Carbury. Please, please, father, think of our great unhappiness if we are parted, and of our wonderful joy if you allow us to be engaged to each other!”

”I will do my utmost, my poor little one--my utmost,” he answered.

”Gordon, we are waiting for you,” said Lady Helen's hard voice, and then he wrenched my hands away from his neck, and returned to the room where Lady Helen and my lover were to fight a battle for me. Oh, if only father would be strong and take my part!

I ran up to my room and flung myself on my bed. Morris knocked at the door, but I told her to go away; I did not want her then; I did not want the flowers I had bought that morning. Flowers, love, suns.h.i.+ne; the joys of G.o.d's earth would all be as ashes in my mouth if my hero were banished. They were discussing me downstairs; they were tearing my love from me--oh, I could not bear it! My heart began to beat so fast that I could scarcely endure the thumping sensation which was going through my body. I longed to sleep, just because in sleep I might forget; I wanted the minutes to pa.s.s quickly.

Suddenly I sat up; I began listening intently. In my distant bedroom I could hear no sound of what went on in the downstairs rooms. I flew to the window and opened it. Oh, he would not go away--he would see me, whatever happened he would see me--it would be impossible for him to go away without seeing me! Yes, we were made for each other, for was I not in his secret gallery of heroes, and was not he in mine? And could any mere human creature divide us? I thought of Lady Helen, with her hard, cruel face, and of my father. Father loved me, and I told him quite distinctly what I wanted, and I believe that he understood. Had he not always loved his own little Heather? Oh, it must be all right!

Just then I heard, far away, like a distant sort of echo in the house, a door bang. Once again I rushed to the window--I did not mind who saw me--I opened it wide at the top, and put my head out. Captain Carbury was walking quickly down the street. Would he, by any possibility, look back? Would that invisible link between us cause him to raise his eyes until he saw my face? Would he look back, and look up? He did neither.

At the first corner he abruptly turned, and was lost to view.

”She has done it!” I said to myself. ”Oh, how deeply I hate her! But I will never marry Lord Hawtrey, and I will marry Vernon--I will--for I love him with all my heart and soul!”

The depth of my feelings, and the wildness of my anger, gave me courage.

I rushed downstairs. I had the free run of every part of the house, except Lady Helen's boudoir; that door was shut. I was never expected to go in without knocking; I knocked now in frantic haste. A voice--a cold, surprised voice--said:

”Who is there?”

I repeated to myself the words ”Who is there?” and the thought occurred to me that I should not be allowed to enter. They would shut me out, just as surely as they had torn me from the arms of the man I loved, so would they now--my father and Lady Helen--shut me from their consultations. I opened the door, therefore, and went boldly in.

”You can see the person who was outside the door,” I said, and then I walked straight up to my father, who was lying back in a deep chair, his legs crossed one over the other, his head resting against the back of the chair; his face was perturbed, and very red, his blue eyes bright.

Lady Helen, on the contrary, was standing. She had a fan in her hand, and with it she was fanning her hot face. Why were they both so hot and indignant? Why did they look for all the world as though each hated the other?

”I want to know,” I said, ”and I _will_ know, what you have done with Vernon Carbury.”

There was no response whatever to my question. It was received with deep and surprised silence by both my stepmother and my father. Then my father turned, looked at me, blinked his eyes a trifle, and, putting his hand out, drew me down to sit on the edge of his chair.

”If, Gordon,” said my stepmother, ”you mean to make a fool of yourself over that most troublesome, refractory, and good-for-nothing girl, I will leave you with her. If you listen to her sentimental and silly remarks, I can at least go and rest in my room; but clearly understand what my view of this business is.”

”I have not uttered a word, Helen,” replied my father.

”Uttered!” said Lady Helen, a volume of scorn in her voice; ”have not your eyes spoken, has not your hand spoken, has not your action spoken?

That girl dares to come into my private room uninvited, and you encourage her.”

”I have come to ask about Captain Carbury,” I said. ”He is mine, and I want to know everything about him. Where is he--what have you done with him--have you sent him away? Why did he go away without speaking to me?

I tell you he is mine. I _will_ see him.”

Lady Helen suddenly changed her manner. She sank into a chair and burst out laughing.

”Gordon,” she said, without taking the least notice of me, ”may I venture to inquire the exact age of this little spitfire?”

”How old are you, p.u.s.s.y?” inquired my father.

”As if that mattered!” I said. ”I am a hundred years old, as far as feelings go.”

”But as far as the law goes,” said Lady Helen, ”I think, my dear, you will find that you are eighteen, and therefore a minor, and therefore unable to marry without the consent of your father and your stepmother.