Part 13 (2/2)
The indignant lady did not stay to reflect that she had left home unnecessarily early, and that an explanation of the gentleman's absence might, even now, be awaiting her there. Besides, twenty minutes is not long. But perhaps in the case of a lovers' rendezvous, by some magnifying process proper to such occasions, twenty minutes may a.s.sume the dimensions of an hour.
”I'll go once more up and down the pier, and then if he hasn't come I'll go straight home. How Charlie will laugh at me, and triumph, and say 'I told you so!' Oh, Cyril, how unkind you are, not to come when you promised! I don't care, but I do know this, that if Charlie Wentworth is not careful what she says, I will never speak to her again--never--as long as I live!”
It seemed as if the young lady did not quite know whether to be the more angry with her lover or her friend. She went up the pier; then started to return. As she came back a man wearing a mackintosh advanced to her with uplifted cap and outstretched hand.
”Miss Strong!”
It was Mr. Lawrence. The last man whom, just then, she would have wished to see.
Could anything have been more unfortunate? What would Cyril think if, again, he found them there together. She decided to get rid of the man without delay. But the thing was easier decided on than done.
Especially as Mr. Lawrence immediately said something which caused her to postpone his dismissal longer than she had intended.
”I saw Mr. Paxton this afternoon, in town.”
He had fallen in quite naturally by her side. She had moderated her pace, wis.h.i.+ng to rid herself of him before she reached the gates.
”Indeed! In the City, I suppose? He is there on business.”
”He wasn't in the City when I saw him. And the business on which he was employed was of an agreeable kind. He seemed to be making a day of it at the Criterion bar.”
”Are you not mistaken? Are you sure that it was Mr. Paxton?”
”Quite sure. May I ask if he is an intimate friend of yours?”
”He is--a very intimate friend indeed. I am expecting him here every moment.”
”Expecting him here! You really are!” Mr. Lawrence stopped, and turned, and stared, as if her words surprised him. ”I beg your pardon, Miss Strong, but--he is stopping to-night in town.”
”Stopping to-night in town!” It was Miss Strong's turn to stand and stare. ”How do you know? Did he tell you so?”
”Not in so many words, but--I think you will find that he is. The--the fact is, Miss Strong, I heard an ugly story about Mr. Paxton, and--I am afraid you will find that there is something wrong.”
The lady grasped the handle of her umbrella with added vigour. Her impulse was to lay it about the speaker's head. But she refrained.
”You must be too acute of hearing, Mr. Lawrence. If I were you, I should exchange your ears for another pair. Good evening.”
But she was not to escape from him so easily. He caught her by the arm.
”Miss Strong, don't go--not for a moment. There is something which I particularly wish to say to you.”
”What there is, Mr. Lawrence, which you can particularly wish to say to me I am unable to conceive.”
”I fear that may be so, Miss Strong. But there is something, all the same. These are early days in which to say it; and the moment is not the most propitious I could have chosen. But circ.u.mstances are stronger than I. I have a feeling that it must be now or never. You know very little of me, Miss Strong. Probably you will say you know nothing--that I am, to all intents and purposes, a stranger. But I know enough of you to know that I love you: that you are to me what no woman has ever been before, or will ever be again. And what I particularly wish to say to you is to ask you to be my wife.”
His words were so wholly unexpected, that, for the moment, they took the lady's breath away. He spoke quietly, even coldly; but, in his coldness there was a vibrant something which was suggestive of the heat of pa.s.sion being hidden below, while the very quietude of his utterance made his words more effective than if he had shouted them at the top of his voice. It was a second or two before the startled lady answered.
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