Part 36 (1/2)
”Selfish? By Jove!” he exclaimed. ”Little you know about selfishness when you accuse me of it.”
”Oh, Vernon,” I said, ”I'm just so happy I scarcely know what to do. But because I am so happy I don't want the one I love best in all the world after yourself to be out in the cold.”
”What do you mean by that, Heather dear?”
”Just what I say. I don't want to leave my own darling father absolutely miserable.”
”Jove! you're right there. But what can you do? You can't part a man from his lawful wife.”
”No more I can--that's quite true; but I do want to see him and--I must see Lady Helen, too. Vernon, you'll help me, won't you?”
”By all means,” he answered. ”But now, let us talk of ourselves. How soon do you think we can be married--in a fortnight? Surely a fortnight would be long enough for any reasonable girl.”
”I am by no means certain of that,” I replied. ”I will marry you, Vernon, as soon as ever I can put other matters right.”
”Oh, but I have a voice in this, for I mean to marry you without a moment's delay--that is, I mean that I will give you one fortnight and not an hour beyond. It is the fas.h.i.+on now to be married by banns. Well, we'll have our banns cried on Sunday next and on the following Sunday and the Sunday after, and we can be married on the Monday after that.
That's about right, isn't it? That's as it ought to be.”
”Vernon, you are so--so impulsive.”
”Well, little girl, I'm made like that. When I want a thing I generally contrive to get it, and that as soon as possible. Jove! I did have work in getting you. If I hadn't thought and thought, and very nearly driven myself distracted, do you imagine for a single moment I'd have ferreted out that secret of Gideon Dalrymple's? So much thinking is exceedingly bad for a fellow, Heather, and the sooner you can set his heart at rest, the better for his general health.”
”All right,” I replied. ”I will marry you in a fortnight if father is happy and if Aunt Penelope is satisfied.”
”You needn't doubt her,” said Vernon. ”I put the question to her before you entered the drawing-room. When you were upstairs, putting on that pretty frock and tidying your hair, I had the brunt of the business settled with her. She likes sharp work; she told me so. When you appeared on the scene I was quite like an old family man pouring out the tea for her, and all the rest.”
”There never was anyone like you,” I said, and I took his hand timidly in mine.
”Come--this is all nonsense! Kiss me, Heather.”
”No, no, Vernon--I--I can't.”
”Don't be a dear little goose. I must be paid for what I've done. Kiss me this instant.”
”It's your place----” I began.
”All right, if that's how you put it.”
He clasped his arms round me and drew me close to him and kissed me over and over and over again.
”There now,” he said; ”it's your turn.”
”But you have kissed me.”
”Of course, I have. I want _you_ to kiss _me_. Now begin. Come, Heather, don't be shy.”
I did kiss him, and after I had kissed him once I kissed him again, and my dark eyes looked into his blue ones, and I seemed to see the steadfast, bright, honourable soul that dwelt within his breast, and I knew that I was the happiest of girls.
We went slowly back from the Downs into the more shady part of the little town. We stopped at Aunt Penelope's house. A great deal had been happening in our absence. b.u.t.tons was flying about like a creature demented, the parrot was calling in a voice loud enough to deafen you: ”Stop knocking at the door!” and Aunt Penelope was in her very best cap and in her softest and most stately black silk dress. She wore black silk dresses of the sort which are never seen now. It was thick; it would almost stand by itself; it had a ribby sort of texture, and in order to enrich the silk it was heavily trimmed with bands of black velvet and with a fringe of what they called black bugles. The effect was at once dull and extremely handsome. It suited Aunt Penelope to a nicety--that and her little cap with the real point lace and the soft mauve ribbons.