Confessions of a Young Lady Part 43

"Who--who is this lady?"

"I don't know that it is a secret; the lady is Sarah Freemantle."

"Sarah Freemantle!"

"She is staying in Brighton, you know--or perhaps you don't know--because she has actually gone and hidden herself away in one of the back streets, as if, as I tell her, she were hiding from her creditors. Her creditors! Why, she's worth untold millions!"

Mr Coventry was silent. Mrs Murphy sat and watched him. He was quite worth looking at. George Coventry has been p.r.o.nounced by a high authority to be the handsomest man in England. Oddly enough, he was not only handsome, but he looked good and honest too; and he was without an atom of conceit. In the eyes of some people it was an extra recommendation that he was not exactly wise.

When Mrs Murphy had looked at the young gentleman quite two minutes, she moved up to his end of the carriage.

"Mr Coventry, here is your property. You are fortunate in having such a friend."

Without a word Mr Coventry placed the cheque and the notes within his pocket-book.

"After all, I am not sure that I would not have liked to have been that friend myself."

Mr Coventry fidgeted.

"You--you are very good."

"Do you think so? I should like to be good--to you."

Mr Coventry shivered. Was this woman making love?

"I married my first husband, Mr Coventry, to please my mother. When I marry again I mean to please myself."

"What--what time is this train due in Brighton?"

"Never mind what time the train is due in Brighton." She smiled.

Some men, who are about to pop the question, delight in the shyness of the maiden. Was it possible that she delighted in the shyness of the youth?

"George--I may call you George. Mayn't I call you George?"

"Have you any objection to my smoking a pipe?"

"Smoke if you please. Do what you please. My only desire is to give you pleasure."

She laid her gloved hand softly on his arm.

"You haven't such a thing as a match about you?"

"George, before you begin to smoke, turn round and look at me."

Mr Coventry's head was turned round the other way; he was blowing through the stem of his pipe.

"George!"

If the lady had been a gentleman we should have written that he put his arm about her waist.

"Thunder! my pipe won't draw!"

The gentleman sprang to his feet with startling suddenness; but the lady was equal to the occasion. Before he knew it she had taken him with both her hands, and drawn him on to her knee.

"You silly thing!"

While Mr Coventry was wondering if the skies had fallen, she had kissed him on the lips.

Just then the train reached Brighton.

CHAPTER II

Mr Coventry chartered a fly to the Steyne. He drew up at the house in which lived the little woman with the foot. The person who opened the door informed him that Miss Hardy was in. He rushed upstairs without waiting to be announced. The little woman was seated writing at a table. At his entrance she rose with a start--as well she might.

"Miss Hardy, I--I want to speak to you."

"Mr Coventry."

As the lady stood facing the gentleman she turned a little pale, or perhaps it was a curious effect of the lamplight shining in her face.

As for the gentleman's complexion, any suggestion of pallor was ridiculous. A ripe tomato was the best comparison which could have been applied to him.

"I beg ten thousand pardons, but I--I've been with that Murphy woman in the train!"

The girl said nothing. Her big brown eyes were fixed upon her visitor's countenance. In them was a look of not unjustifiable inquiry.

"I--I daresay you think that I'm mad; but I'm not. The fact is, Miss Hardy, I've had a stroke of luck!"

"I am glad to hear it."

"Is that all?"

"What else would you have me say?"

The intensity of the gaze which the gentleman kept fixed upon the lady she must have found a little trying. All at once he went forward. He brought his hand down heavily on the little table at which she was standing.

"Dora, I love you!"

The remark was sudden. The girl for a moment was silent, as if she could scarcely believe her ears. Then a wave of vivid red went up all over her, so that it even dyed the roots of her hair. In her eyes were tears.

"Mr Coventry!"

"Dora, I love you!" If she had had eyes to see, which may be doubted, she might have seen that he was trembling. His words came from him like a flood. "I don't ask you to say that you love me; I know you can't; but I do ask you to say that one day you will try!"

The girl was trembling too.

"Mr Coventry, I--I cannot think you are in earnest."