Part 16 (1/2)
”Not in bicycling,” he answered, his eyes set ardently on her face.
She was sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, which had been stripped of its bark and shaped into a primitive bench. He sat down by her and took her hand.
”Your hand shakes! What's the matter? You're not afraid of me?”
”Not of you--no, not of you, Harry.”
”Of something then? Is it of something I might do--or say?” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
It was no use trying to get answers out of her; she was past that; but she did not turn away from him, she let her eyes meet his in a silent appeal.
”Vivien, I love you more than all my life!”
”You--you can't,” he could just hear her murmur, her lips scarcely parted.
”More than everything in the world besides!”
What wonderful words they were. ”More than everything in the world besides!” ”More than all my life!” Could there be such words? Could she have heard--and Harry uttered them? Her hands trembled violently in his; she was sore afraid amidst bewildering joy. Anything she had foreshadowed in her dreams seemed now so faint, so poor, against marvellous reality. Surely the echo of the wonderful words would be in her ears for all her life!
She had none wherewith to answer them; her hands were his already; for the tears in her eyes she could hardly see his face, but she turned her lips up to his in mute consent.
”That makes you mine,” said Harry, ”and me yours--yours only--for ever.”
She released her hands from his, and put her arm under his arm. Still she said nothing, but now she smiled beneath her dim eyes, and pressed his arm.
”Not frightened now?” he asked softly. ”You need never be frightened again.”
She spoke at last just to say ”No” very softly, yet with a wealth of confident happiness.
”The things we'll do, the things we'll see, the times we'll have!” cried Harry gaily. ”And to think that it's only a month or two ago that the idea occurred to me!” He teased her. ”Occurred to us, Vivien?”
”Oh no, Harry. Well, then, yes.” She laughed lightly, pressing his arm again. ”But never that it could be like this.”
”Is this--nice?” he asked in banter.
”Is it--real?” she whispered.
”Yes, it's real and it's nice--real nice, in fact,”
laughed Harry.
”Don't talk just for a little while,” she begged, and he humoured her, watching her delicate face during the silence she entreated. ”You must tell them,” she said suddenly, with a return of her alarm.
”Oh yes, I'll do all the hard work,” he promised her, smiling.
She fell into silence again, the wonderful words re-echoing in her ears--”More than everything in the world besides!” ”More than all my life!”
”I promised Miss Vintry we'd be back to tea. Do you think you can face her?” asked Harry.
”Yes, with you. But you've got to tell. You promised.”
”You'll have somebody to help you over all the stiles--now and hereafter.”