Part 21 (1/2)
”You mustn't present yourself at the inn in your own name; and you mustn't ask for her by _her_ name.”
”Who am I to ask for?”
”It's a little awkward. She has gone there as a married woman, in case they're particular about taking her in--”
”I understand. Go on.”
”And she has planned to tell them (by way of making it all right and straight for both of us, you know) that she expects her husband to join her. If I had been able to go I should have asked at the door for 'my wife.' You are going in my place--”
”And I must ask at the door for 'my wife,' or I shall expose Miss Silvester to unpleasant consequences?”
”You don't object?”
”Not I! I don't care what I say to the people of the inn. It's the meeting with Miss Silvester that I'm afraid of.”
”I'll put that right for you--never fear!”
He went at once to the table and rapidly scribbled a few lines--then stopped and considered. ”Will that do?” he asked himself. ”No; I'd better say something spooney to quiet her.” He considered again, added a line, and brought his hand down on the table with a cheery smack.
”That will do the business! Read it yourself, Arnold--it's not so badly written.”
Arnold read the note without appearing to share his friend's favorable opinion of it.
”This is rather short,” he said.
”Have I time to make it longer?”
”Perhaps not. But let Miss Silvester see for herself that you have no time to make it longer. The train starts in less than half an hour. Put the time.”
”Oh, all right! and the date too, if you like.”
He had just added the desired words and figures, and had given the revised letter to Arnold, when Sir Patrick returned to announce that the gig was waiting.
”Come!” he said. ”You haven't a moment to lose!”
Geoffrey started to his feet. Arnold hesitated.
”I must see Blanche!” he pleaded. ”I can't leave Blanche without saying good-by. Where is she?”
Sir Patrick pointed to the steps, with a smile. Blanche had followed him from the house. Arnold ran out to her instantly.
”Going?” she said, a little sadly.
”I shall be back in two days,” Arnold whispered. ”It's all right! Sir Patrick consents.”
She held him fast by the arm. The hurried parting before other people seemed to be not a parting to Blanche's taste.
”You will lose the train!” cried Sir Patrick.
Geoffrey seized Arnold by the arm which Blanche was holding, and tore him--literally tore him--away. The two were out of sight, in the shrubbery, before Blanche's indignation found words, and addressed itself to her uncle.