Charles Rex Part 45

"We came to congratulate," said Bunny. "Good luck to her!"

And Saltash, with his royal air of graciousness, made light reply.

"I thank you for your congratulations, my children; but may the luck be yours! I see it coming."

And with that lightly he moved away among his guests, leaving a trail of merriment wherever he went, save where the boy and girl stood together in the bows in a silence that neither seemed able to break.

CHAPTER VII

SURRENDER

That night Fairharbour Bay looked like a velvet bed on which glittered many jewels. _The Blue Moon_, lighted from bows to stern lay in the centre, and from her deck there went up showers of coloured rockets that fell like burning rain upon the sea. There was a string band on board, and the strains floated across the water as echoes from another world--a wonder-world of soft melodies and laughing voices and lightly splashing oars.

Toby sat in the stern of a boat with a single rower in front of her, and trailed her fingers through the magic water. She was bare-headed, and the breeze of the summer night stirred tenderly the golden ringlets that cl.u.s.tered about her bow. Her face, seen now and then in the flare of the rockets, had a strange look, almost a look of dread. Her blue eyes were very wide open, like the eyes of a startled child.

She spoke scarcely at all, and Bunny did not urge her. Only as he rowed, he watched her with grave determination on his boyish face. He had claimed her as his partner early in the evening, and she had made no attempt to thwart him; but something in that half scared silence of hers moved him very deeply. His own was protective, resolutely rea.s.suring.

Once, when she started nervously at an unexpectedly loud report from one of the rockets, he spoke to her as he would have spoken to a small, frightened animal.

"It's all right. I'll pull out a bit, shall I? These things make such a beastly row."

She thanked him in an undertone, and he began to row steadily away from the yacht and the thronging boats.

"You tell me when I've gone far enough!" he said.

But she did not tell him, and he rowed on and on through the dark water with only the rhythmic splashing of the oars to fill the silence between them.

They left the laughter and the noise behind, and began to draw towards the far corner of the bay. The sh.o.r.e rose steeply from the water here, and there came to them the soft breaking of the waves against the cliff as they neared it.

Toby came out of her silence with a jerk. "Bunny, do you really think it would answer?"

"Sure!" said Bunny promptly.

He drew in his oars with the words, and they drifted on the summer tide.

Toby was looking at him in the starlight with a dumb and piteous irresolution in her eyes.

Bunny leaned to her as he sat, with outstretched hands. "You poor little frightened mouse!" he said. "What is it that's troubling you? Do you think I wouldn't make you happy?"

"I think you'd try," she said dubiously.

For a few seconds she hung back, hesitating; then swiftly, almost with the gesture of one who casts aside a burden, she threw out her trembling hands and thrust them into his. He took them and held them fast, drawing them gently to him till he had them against his heart. "I would try, sweetheart," he said softly.

"Would you?" whispered Toby. "Would you?"

She went nearer to him; he could feel her trembling from head to foot.

"You think I wouldn't succeed?" he asked her tenderly. "You think I'd make you sorry?"

"I don't know," she answered quiveringly. "I--I'm thinking most of you."

"Wondering whether it would be good for me to have my heart's desire?"

jested Bunny softly. "Think it would be too much for me; what, darling?"

"No,--no!" said Toby. "Not that! Only wondering if you are wanting the right thing--wondering if the thing you call your heart's desire will bring you happiness. It--it doesn't always, you know, Bunny. Life is like that."

Her voice sank a little.

"What do you know about life?" he said.

She shook her head, her face downcast. "Oh, too much--too much!" she said.

Bunny sat motionless for a moment or two, but his hold was strong and comforting. At length very gently he began to draw her nearer.

He almost expected her to resist him, but she did not. As he drew her, she yielded, till with a sob she suffered herself to be drawn close into his arms. He had her on the thwart beside him, her face hidden against his shoulder. He laid his cheek down upon her hair and sat silent.

Toby was sobbing a little, and he patted her shoulder soothingly, but he did not speak until with a quivering sigh she relaxed against him and was still.

Then, in a whisper, "Toby mavourneen," he said, "I'm going to tell you something that's come to me lately--something I've guessed. You needn't answer me. I don't want you to answer me--only to know that I know.

There's another fellow in your heart, and he's got a bigger place than I have--at present. No, don't tremble, darling! It's all right. I know--I know. He's the sort that women simply can't keep out. He's a fine chap too, and I'm fond of him--always have been. But look here, mavourneen, you're not going to break your precious little heart over him; you know quite well it's no use, don't you? You know--well, anyhow to a certain extent--you know what he is, don't you?"

He paused for an answer, but Toby quivered in his arms and was silent.

He put up a hand and pressed her head closer to his breast. "He'll never marry," he said. "He doesn't mean to. He almost told me so the other day.

But--Toby--he takes a friendly interest in you and me. He'd like us to have each other. Don't you think"--his voice had a hint of humour--"don't you think we might fix it up just to please him?

P'raps--someday--we may find that we're pleased ourselves as well."

"Oh, my dear!" Toby whispered.

Her arm crept round his neck, but she did not lift her head. He clasped her more closely and went on very softly. "I love you enough to think of your happiness first, my darling. You're not happy now. I know that all right. But you will be--I swear you shall be--if you will marry me. You like me just a bit, don't you? And you wouldn't be afraid to trust yourself to me?"

"No," murmured Toby, with an effort. "I wouldn't be--afraid."

"Then you'll give me my chance?" he urged gently. "You'll put your dear little hand into mine and trust me? Will you darling? Will you?"

But Toby was silent.

"Won't you?" he said in a whisper.

Her arm tightened about his neck. She was breathing quickly, nervously.

From across the water came the sounds of laughter and cheering, the softened strains of the band that played on the deck of _The Blue Moon_.

Close at hand was only the low wash of the waves as they lapped against the cliff. They floated quite alone over the dark depths, rising and falling with the slow heave of the tide, but making no headway.

"Won't you?" Bunny said again, after a long silence.