Amusement Only Part 20

"Do you think so?" They were standing under the shadow of a tree. He leaned back against the tree. "By the way, I have been remiss. I ought to have inquired after your mother."

"My mother?" She started.

"I see your names are bracketed in the visitors' book together."

"Our names bracketed in the visitors book together! You are dreaming!"

"I saw them there--Mrs. and Miss Danvers."

"Mrs. and Miss Danvers! Cecil! what do you mean?"

It was his turn to stare. Her manner had all at once become quite singular.

"What do _you_ mean? Isn't your mother with you?"

"Cecil, are you making fun of me?"

Hubert felt that, in some way, he was putting his foot in it--though he did not quite see how.

"Nothing is further from my thoughts than to make fun of you. But when I saw Mrs. Danvers' name in the visitors' book----"

"Whose name?"

"When I saw Mrs. and Miss Danvers there as large as life----"

The lady moved a step away from him. All at once she became, as it were, a different woman entirely.

"I see that you are the same man after all. The same Mr. Cecil Buxton.

The same cold, calculating, sneering cynic. Only you happen to have broken out in another place. I presume you have been having a little amus.e.m.e.nt at my expense on a novel plan of your own. But this time, my friend, you have gone too far. You have asked me, in so many words, to be your wife--I dare you to deny it! You have borrowed money--I dare you to deny that too! I am not so unprotected as you may possibly imagine. I took the precaution to wire this morning for a friend. You will marry me, or we shall see!"

The lady swept him a splendid curtsey, and--walked off. He was so taken aback by the sudden change in her deportment that he made not the slightest attempt to arrest her progress. He stared after her, in the moonlight, open-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Well----! I've done something, though I don't know what. And I've done it somehow, though I don't know how. Cecil ought to be grateful to me for ridding him of her. They'd never have been happy together, I'll stake my life on it. Hallo! Who's this? More adventures!"

There was a rustling behind him. He turned. Someone came out of the shadow of the tree. It was a young girl. She was clad in a plain black silk dinner dress. A shawl was thrown over her shoulders. He could see that she had brown hair and pleasant features. She addressed to him a question which surprised him.

"Who is that woman?" she asked.

She pointed after the rapidly retreating "Angel" with a gesture which was almost tragic. He raised his hat.

"I beg your pardon? I don't think I have the pleasure----"

She paid no attention to his words.

"Who is that woman?" she repeated.

"Which woman?"

"That woman?"

"Really I--I think there's some mistake----"

To his amazement she burst into a pa.s.sion of tears. "Cecil, don't speak to me like that--don't! don't! don't!"

Hubert stared. The young lady dropped her hands from before her face.

She looked at him with streaming eyes.

"Who is that woman? Tell me! I've been longing for your coming, thinking of all that I should say to you, wishing that the minutes were but seconds--and you've been here all the time! You must have come hours before you told me that your train was due. What is the meaning of it all?"

"That is precisely what I should like to know."

"I came out here that I might be alone before our meeting. I heard the sound of voices, and I thought that one of them was yours--I could not believe it. I listened. I heard you talking to that woman. I saw her kiss you. Oh, Cecil! Cecil! my heart is broken!"

She tottered forward, all but falling into Hubert's arms. He tried to soothe her. _Sotto voce_ he told himself that Cecil had more romance in his nature than he had given him credit for. His complications in the feminine line appeared to be worthy of the farces at the Palais Royal. In the midst of her emotion, the young lady in his arms continued to address him.

"Why--did you--tell me--you were coming--by one train--when--all the time--you must have meant--to come by another. I--have your letter here----"

From the bosom of her dress she drew an envelope. Hubert made a dash at it.

"My letter? Permit me for an instant!"

With scant ceremony he took it from her hand. He glanced at the address--recognising Cecil's well-known writing.

"Miss--Miss Danvers! Are you--are _you_--Miss Danvers?"

The girl shrank from him. Her tears were dried. Her face grew white.

"Cecil!" she exclaimed.

"Forgive me if my question seems a curious one, but--_are_ you Miss Danvers?"

The girl shrank away still more. Her face grew whiter. She spoke so faintly her words were scarcely audible.

"Cecil! Give me back my letter, if you please!"

He handed her back her envelope. "Miss Danvers, I entreat you----"

But the look of scorn which was on her face brought even Hubert to a standstill. As he hesitated, she "fixed him with her eyes." He had seldom felt so uncomfortable as he did just then. He seemed to feel himself growing smaller simply because of the scorn which was in her glance.

"Good evening, _Mister_ Buxton."

She slightly inclined her head--and was gone. Hubert stared after her dumfounded. When he did recover the faculty of speech he hardly knew what use to make of it.

"Well--I've done it! If _she's_ Miss Danvers--_who_ is 'Angel?' Cecil will thank me for the treat which I'm preparing for him. I knew this fatal likeness would dog me to the grave. Why was I born a twin?"

He strolled slowly toward the building. As he entered the hall a lady was coming along the corridor. At sight of him she quickened her pace.

She advanced to him with outstretched hands. She was a lady of perhaps forty years of age.

"Cecil!" she cried.