Brandon of the Engineers Part 2

"It was very fine. I don't understand the technique of music, but one felt that you got the song just right. And then, the way you brought out the idea!"

"That is what the mechanical part is for," she answered with a smile and a touch of color. "As it happens, I saw an infantry brigade on the march to-day, and watched the long line of men go by in the dust and sun.

Perhaps that helps one to understand."

"Did you see them cross the bridge?" d.i.c.k asked eagerly.

"No," she answered; and he felt absurdly disappointed. He would have liked to think that his work had helped her to sing.

"Have you another like the first?" he asked.

"I never sing more than once," she smiled. Then as Lance and another man came toward them, she added, glancing at an open French window: "Besides, the room is very hot. It would be cooler in the garden."

d.i.c.k was not a man of affairs, but he was not a fool. He knew that Clare Kenwardine was not the girl to attempt his captivation merely because he had shown himself susceptible. She wanted him to keep the others off, and he thought he understood this as he glanced at Lance's companion. The fellow had a coa.r.s.e, red face and looked dissipated, and even Lance's well-bred air was somehow not so marked as usual. Well, he was willing that she should make any use of him that she liked.

They pa.s.sed the others, and after stopping to tell Kenwardine that she was going out, Clare drew back a curtain that covered part of the window.

d.i.c.k stepped across the ledge and, seeing that the stairs below were iron and rather slippery, held out his hand to Clare. The curtain swung back and cut off the light, and when they were near the bottom the girl tripped and clutched him. Her hand swept downward from his shoulder across his chest and caught the outside pocket of his coat, while he grasped her waist to steady her.

"Thank you," she said. "I was clumsy, but the steps are awkward and my shoes are smooth."

d.i.c.k was glad it was dark, for he felt confused. The girl had rested upon him for a moment and it had given him a thrill.

They crossed the broad lawn. Half of it lay in shadow, for a wood that rolled up a neighboring hillside cut off the light of the low, half moon.

The air was still, it was too warm for dew, and there was a smell of flowers--stocks, d.i.c.k thought, and he remembered their pungent sweetness afterward when he recalled that night. Clare kept in the moonlight, and he noted the elusive glimmer of her white dress. She wore no hat or wrap, and the pale illumination emphasized the slenderness of her figure and lent her an ethereal grace.

They stopped at a bench beneath a copper-beech, where the shadow of the leaves checkered with dark blotches the girl's white draperies and d.i.c.k's uniform. Some of the others had come out, for there were voices in the gloom.

"Perhaps you wonder why I brought you here," Clare said frankly.

"No," d.i.c.k answered. "If you had any reason, I'm not curious. And I'd rather be outside."

"Well," she said, "the light was rather glaring and the room very hot."

She paused and added: "Mr. Brandon's your cousin?"

"He is, and a very good sort. He brought me to-night, but I felt that it was, perhaps, something of an intrusion when you came in."

"You didn't feel that before?"

d.i.c.k knew that he was on dangerous ground. He must not admit that he suspected Kenwardine's motive for receiving promiscuous guests.

"Well, not to the same extent. You see, Lance knows everybody and everybody likes him. I thought I might be welcome for his sake."

"It's plain that you are fond of your cousin. But why did you imagine that I should think your visit an intrusion?"

d.i.c.k was glad he sat in the shadow, for his face was getting hot. He could not hint that he had expected to find a rather daring coquette--the kind of girl, in fact, one would imagine a semi-professional gambler's daughter to be. It now seemed possible that he had misjudged Kenwardine; and he had certainly misjudged Clare. The girl's surroundings were powerless to smirch her: d.i.c.k was sure of that.

"Oh, well," he answered awkwardly, "although Lance obviously knows your father pretty well, it doesn't follow that he's a friend of yours."

"It does not," she said in a curious tone. "But do you know the man he was with?"

"I never saw him before, and somehow I don't feel anxious to improve his acquaintance."

Clare laughed.

"That's a quick decision, isn't it? Are you a judge of character?" she asked.

"I have been badly mistaken," d.i.c.k admitted with a smile. "Still, I know the people I'm going to like. How is it I haven't seen you about? We're not very far off and most of the people in the neighborhood have driven over to our camp."

"I only came home to-night, after being away for some time."

d.i.c.k was relieved to learn this. He did not like to think of her living at Kenwardine's house and meeting his friends. It was scarcely half an hour since he met Clare Kenwardine, but she had, quite unconsciously he thought, strongly impressed him. In fact, he felt rather guilty about it.

Since he was, in a manner, expected to marry some one else, he had no business to enjoy yielding to this stranger's charm and to thrill at her touch.

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Lance strolled up with his companion.

"Don't forget the time, d.i.c.k," he remarked as he pa.s.sed. "You mustn't let him keep you too long, Miss Kenwardine. He has an important errand to do for his colonel."

"If you don't mind, I won't go just yet," d.i.c.k said to Clare; and understood from her silence that she did not want to dismiss him.

For the first time since they were boys, he was angry with his cousin. It looked as if Lance had meant to take him away when Miss Kenwardine needed him. He was flattered to think she preferred his society to the red-faced man's, and had used him to keep the other at a distance. Well, he would stay to the last minute and protect her from the fellow, or from anybody else.

A little later Kenwardine joined them, and d.i.c.k knew that he must go.

Clare gave him her hand with a quick, grateful look that made his heart beat, and Lance met him as he went into the house.

"You're cutting it very fine," he said. "Come along; here's your cap."

"In a moment! There's an infantry man I asked over to our camp."

"You haven't time to look for him," Lance answered, and good-humoredly pushed d.i.c.k into the hall. "Get off at once! A fellow I know will give me a lift home."

d.i.c.k ran down the drive and a few moments later his motorcycle was humming up the road. He sped through a dark firwood, where the cool air was filled with resinous scent, and out across a hillside down which the stocked sheaves stood in silvery rows, but he noticed nothing except that the white strip of road was clear in front. His thoughts were back in the garden with Clare Kenwardine, and he could smell the clogging sweetness of the stocks. This was folly, and he changed the gear on moderate hills and altered the control when the engine did not need it, to occupy his mind; but the picture of the girl he carried away with him would not be banished.

For all that, he reached Storeton Grange in time and, running up the drive, saw lights in the windows and a car waiting at the door. Getting down and stating his business, he was shown into a room where a stern-faced man in uniform sat talking to another in evening clothes.

"I understand you come from Captain Hallam," said the Colonel.

"Yes, sir. He sent me with some papers."

"You know what they are?"

"Plans of pontoons, sir."

"Very well," said the Colonel, taking out a fountain pen. "Let me have them."

d.i.c.k put his hand into his breastpocket, which was on the outside of his coat. The pocket was unb.u.t.toned, and the big envelope had gone. He hurriedly felt the other pockets, but they too were empty, and his face got red.

The Colonel looked hard at him, and then made a sign to the other man, who quietly went out.

"You haven't got the plans! Did you leave them behind?"