Imprudence Part 16

For the fraction of a second Prudence hesitated. She did not want to drive with him. She knew that if she agreed she could not speak of it at home: there was something a little shameful in doing what must of necessity be done secretly. But the memory of that former occasion on which she had been glad enough to make use of his car was in her mind, and made a refusal to accept the present invitation appear pointedly ungracious.

"You would rather not?" he said reproachfully.

Prudence made up her mind on the instant.

"Thank you, I should like it. But couldn't we leave the bicycle somewhere and pick it up on our return?"

"We could," he said. "That's not a bad idea. There's an inn a quarter of a mile along the road. I'll drive on so that you shan't be smothered in dust, and you follow; then we'll house the bicycle and go for a joy ride."

He re-entered the car and drove off; while Prudence, waiting for the cloud of dust which he raised to subside, stood beside her machine, dismayed at the realisation of what she had consented to do, and considering whether it would not be wiser to head her cycle in the opposite direction and ride home. But reflection showed her the impossibility of acting in so ungracious a manner. She should have declined his invitation in the first instance; to evade the engagement now was unthinkable.

When she arrived at the inn it was to discover that Major Stotford had made the necessary arrangements; it only remained for her to relinquish her cycle to the man who stood ready to take it, and climb to her seat in the car. Despite a determination to enjoy herself and banish disquieting thoughts, Prudence was conscious of feeling not entirely at her ease with her companion. She could not have explained this sense of mistrust. There was nothing in Major Stotford's manner to arouse it; she decided that possibly it resulted from what she had learned in regard to his private life. That ugly story coloured all her thoughts of him, and revealed him in an unfavourable light. She had not met this type of man before.

Nevertheless he interested her. He talked well. And he was so manifestly enjoying himself and showed such eagerness to please her that Prudence made an effort to shake off her uneasiness and share his pleasure in the excursion. But when he stopped at a little village some miles further on and took her into a place where they catered for tourists, the old disquieting feeling came back intensified; and she knew that she was not enjoying herself, that she shrank from appearing in public with a man whose acquaintance she had been forbidden. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that she had acted indiscreetly.

"I would rather go on," she said. "I don't want tea, and I mustn't be late."

"We shan't be here many minutes," he replied. "And you must have something. Rushing through the air gives me an appet.i.te. I'll get you back in good time, if I have to exceed the speed limit. We've been doing that already."

He carried his point and led her within. They were shown into a little room where a table was laid for tea. There was no one else in the room, though from across the pa.s.sage voices were audible and the sound of clinking china in proof that other travellers were taking refreshment.

Major Stotford looked about him critically, flung his gloves on a chair, and advised Prudence to sit down and rest.

"I'll go and order something to eat," he said.

Prudence, who was standing near the window, looking out on a regiment of tall hollyhocks and a group of flaming dahlias blooming in the little garden, made no response; and he left the room, closing the door behind him.

With the closing of the door she faced about, feeling extraordinarily like a person trapped. It was absurd of course; but her heart beat with uncomfortable rapidity, and excitement flushed her face and lent a brightness to her eyes. She moved about the room restlessly examining the gaudy prints on the walls and the hideous design of the Brussels carpet; but was unable to fix her attention on anything, and wandered back to the window again.

There was a flavour of wrong-doing in this adventure which troubled her.

The fear of being found out loomed with ugly insistence in the foreground of her ideas. She wished he had been satisfied simply to drive with her. This unforeseen development with its intimate suggestion of confidential relations vexed her. Intuition told her that in the circ.u.mstances he should have refrained from taking this step.

Then the door opened again to admit him. He came in, confident and smiling, and joined her where she stood at the window.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Prudence poured out the tea while Major Stotford sat with his back to the light, attentively observant of her actions, causing her considerable confusion by the intensity of his regard, and by the fact that he had fallen upon a quite unusual silence and seemed content simply to sit and watch her.

"We must hurry," she said, handing him a cup. "If I cause them anxiety at home through being late they will make such a fuss about my cycling in future."

"Oh, Lord!" he murmured. "What a nuisance a family can become. I wish you were an orphan." He stirred his tea slowly, and smiled at her.

"You are living up to your name. Do you know, when I first heard it, I thought it strangely unsuited."

"I suppose you think me imprudent?" she said, without looking at him.

"No; not that," he hastened to a.s.sure her. "But Prudence is such a Puritanic appellation. It suggests a nun. I'm not sure on the whole that I don't prefer Imprudence. It's purely a matter of taste."

"Never mind my name," she said, and looked vexed. "You are not the first to discover its unsuitability. Will you have another cup of tea?"

"I haven't started on my first cup yet," he answered, and lifted it to his lips to conceal his amus.e.m.e.nt. "You _are_ in a hurry. See here!"

He placed a gun-metal watch on the table beside his plate. "We'll give it ten minutes. If you attempt to finish under you will ruin your digestion. I would, if permitted a choice, allow half an hour for tea and another half-hour for digestion; but since that doesn't fit in with your wishes, I sacrifice mine. Try this plum cake; it's rather good.

The woman who runs this place was formerly a servant of mine, and her plum cakes are excellent."

He cut the cake into generous slices. Prudence took a slice and p.r.o.nounced it as good as he had promised. Although she had declared that she was not hungry, with the food before her she discovered a very healthy appet.i.te. Her spirits began to revive. After all, it was rather jolly having tea in this quaint place, with the autumn sunshine streaming in through the little window and falling brightly across the tea-table, till the honey in its gla.s.s pot shone like liquid amber, and the dahlias, which Major Stotford had removed from the centre of the table because they obstructed his view, were ruby red against the snowy cloth. The sunlight fell too upon the man's dark hair and showed it thinning on the top and about the temples. Prudence noted these things with interest. She wondered what his age was, and decided that he was older than he appeared. She began to feel more at ease with him. He ate surprising quant.i.ties of cake in the limited time at his disposal, and dispatched several cups of tea. At the expiration of the ten minutes he returned the watch to his pocket and rose briskly.

"Time's up," he said, coming round to her seat and standing over her with his hand on the back of her chair. "I think I deserve thanks for my self-sacrifice, don't you?"

Prudence would have risen too, but it was impossible to do so without coming into collision with him. She wished he would not stand so close.

"I can't see where the self-sacrifice comes in," she replied. "You made an excellent tea."

He laughed and leant over her chair, so that their faces were on a level. The expression in his eyes startled her. She jerked back her chair quickly and stood up, but immediately his hand slipped to her arm and held her.

"Do you know," he said, "I think you are a little afraid of me."

"Let me go--please!" She was thoroughly alarmed now. The old uneasiness gripped her. She experienced again the sensation of being trapped. And his eyes frightened her. They held hers with strangely compelling force, and there was a look in them such as she had never seen in a man's eyes before--such as she had never imagined human eyes could express. "I wish you--wouldn't look at me--like that."

The grip on her arm tightened. He drew her close to him, and his other hand came to rest on her shoulder, slipped round her shoulders and held her.

"Look into my eyes," he said. "Don't be frightened. There is nothing to be frightened about."

"Oh, please!" said Prudence, near to tears. "Let me go."

"In a minute," he returned softly. "I've something to say first. You shy child, what are you afraid of? I've a great affection for you. You are the dearest, sweetest little girl I have met for many a long year.

I want to be friends--now and for ever. And I'm going to seal the compact right here."

Swiftly with the words his clasp of her became vicelike. It was useless for Prudence to struggle against him. Her resistance served only to strengthen his resolve. He crushed her to him, set his lips to hers, and kissed her--kissed her with a pa.s.sion that was as a flame which burned into her soul. Then he released her; and she fell back with a gasp of anger, her face white, her eyes ablaze with rage and mortification. She leaned with her clenched hand upon the tablecloth, panting and inarticulate. He turned to give her time to recover, picked his cap up from a chair, and faced round again deliberately.

"I couldn't help it," he said; "you were so sweet. I've been wanting to do that all the time. Don't look so tragic. I won't offend again."

"How dare you?" she breathed; and with difficulty he forced back the smile that threatened to break over his features. That was exactly what he had expected her to say, what he had known she would say, as soon as she found any voice to speak with.

"I don't know," he said. "Upon my soul, I don't know how it happened.

I'm sorry--to have annoyed you. I'm not sorry about anything else. I had to kiss you."

"I want," Prudence said, with a faint sob in her voice, "to go home."

"You aren't angry with me?" he said, and became suddenly humble. "You aren't going to punish me? I'm really ashamed of my roughness. Forgive me. Say you forgive me. I will not offend again. Please..."

"I will never willingly speak to you again," Prudence said. "If I had any means at all of getting back without you I wouldn't drive with you now. Please don't say any more. Let us start at once."

"You are as hard as a piece of flint," he said, "for all your sweetness.

I didn't think you could be so unkind. Come then!"

He opened the door for her and followed her into the pa.s.sage. From across the pa.s.sage the sound of merry voices broke upon their ears.

Major Stotford glanced in the direction from whence the sounds came, and then glanced curiously at Prudence. She walked on, very erect and quiet, with a white chilled face, and a hurt look in her eyes, seeming to notice nothing.

Once during the drive back he broke the silence which up to that moment had endured between them since they had taken their seats in the car.

He had been driving at top speed; but they were nearing the inn where they had left the bicycle, and he slowed the car down and turned his face towards his quiet companion.