Leonore Stubbs Part 16

"Aye, Maud's style; that's what I said. I told them I knew a girl who could give her points, at my own place."

"But to Maud you would say you had met a girl who could give _her_ points!"

"Say that to Maud? No, thank you; I'm never rude to Maud."

"Only to me?"

"Well, of course. You told me to be; and if it comes to that, you were dashed rude to me yourself just now. And I was doing my level best for you; I was feeling most awfully sorry for you; I never supposed you were only trying it on with me." He paused and swung his stick. "It was all gammon then, about your being lonely and that?" He stood still and looked at her.

Leo was silent.

"It wasn't very nice of you to take me in, and lead me on, if you meant all the time to round on me in the end," said Val, in a voice that made her still more uncomfortable. "I didn't think you were that sort, Leo."

An inaudible murmur, Leo's head turned the other way.

"You can't say you didn't," persisted Val. "You were almost crying; and so then I thought, 'Hang it all, I may as well now as any time,' meaning to--to be kind and cheer you up."

She could not help it; after one violent effort, Leo fell upon the bank, and rocked to and fro with merriment:--"Oh, Val!--oh, Val!"

But presently she put out her hand, and caught and held his; and she sat up and looked into his face with such br.i.m.m.i.n.g, dancing, and withal affectionate eyes, that albeit somewhat puzzled and astonished, he smiled back. "I suppose it was rather funny, but I supposed that was the way to do."

"But you see I wasn't prepared, Val!"

"Well, I tell you I hadn't thought of it myself."

"Wait a minute, till I can speak," Leo wiped her eyes, and patted the moss beside her. "Sit down--it's dry on this stone--and we'll have it out. You think it was all a sham, a mere bid for pity, what I said just now? It wasn't. But, Val, I can't exactly tell you what it was. It just had to come out, it had been kept in so long. I'm better now. You _have_ cheered me up, only--" again laughter stirred within--"only you might have done it cheaper. You needn't have----"

"Gone such a mucker over it?" suggested he.

Yes, that was what she meant. His sympathy, his indulgent understanding of her troubles, above all, his renewal of good-fellowship was enough; she did not require his heart and hand, and with tact insinuated that he might retain them.

"You know you don't want to marry, Val."

"I've got to, though," said he.

"Why have you got to? Can't you go on as you are?"

"Gran says not. When she dies----"

"I see, you would be alone. But then, she may live long enough."

"That's what I say. There's no hurry. I've often said that, but gran gets nervous, and she always does like to boss, you know."

"It's a good thing it was me you spoke to," said Leo, jumping up, after a time. "You might have got caught, whereas now no one need ever know.

Come along"--and she stepped forward.

"I'm not to tell gran, then?" Already he was under a new thumb.

"Certainly not," promptly. "Old people are old, and we are young--and if we don't want to marry, they shan't make us. Just wait a moment,"--and with a sudden change of tone Leo sprang aside, as though the subject were disposed of and another in its place.

A barberry tree laden with berries had come to view, and while he stood still upon the path, she began snapping off the bending branches. On her return, however, he was regarding her shyly with something of a new interest.

"I never said I did not want to marry you, Leo."

Leo's lips twitched. "There's no need to _say_ things, Val. You don't."

"You bustle a fellow so, he doesn't know what he's about. I think you might give a fellow a chance."

"That's just what I'm doing. Giving you a chance to know your own mind--not your grandmother's."

"I like you awfully, you know."

"So do I like you. That's where we stand. We are not going to bother about marrying. Why, Val--take care, don't push me into that puddle.

What ever should you and I do if we were solemnly tied up to each other, and had no one to meet, and talk with, and quarrel with? As it is, you are my only relief from the deadly life I lead at home. And if it comes out that we have been talking like this, there will be an end of it all--yes, there will,--so you are warned, and it would be very cruel of you----"

"Cruel?"

"It would be cruel to take from me my only comfort."

"I wouldn't be cruel to you for the world, Leo."

It was all pleasant enough; it was even exciting in its way; and Leo, at her wits' end for any variety, thirsting for emotions, sensations, pleasure, pain, comedy, tragedy--found the pa.s.sing hour all too short.

This was not the real thing, but it was something. There were moments when even as a lover Val was not absurd, and one beautiful moment in particular when he made her ashamed. He accused her of leading him on, and her conscience echoed the reproach.

But all too soon he was pacified; betraying how ephemeral was the mortification, and how easily healed the wound--and thereafter she played with him at will.

Cat and mouse play, perhaps, and the mouse had no chance from the first, but--Leo did not sigh when once more alone, and her wild spirits all that evening rather displeased everybody.

CHAPTER IX.

"I'D LIKE TO HAVE THINGS ON A SOUNDER BASIS."

In coquetry as in other matters, the old saying about the natural and the acquired taste holds good. Leonore, having once tasted blood, was not to be kept from it; exasperation and despair were thrown to the winds in the triumph of her first victory, and the ease with which she had brought Valentine Purcell to book turned her head. Its consequence was immediate.

"That's the jolliest little widow I have seen for ages," p.r.o.nounced Mr.

George Augustus b.u.t.ts, after seeing the Boldero ladies to their carriage at the close of a prolonged call at his uncle's house. "It's all right, Aunt Laura. If she's on, I am. Mrs. Stubbs may become Mrs. b.u.t.ts--why the very names seem to melt into each other, ha--ha--ha!"

"Really, George!" But George's aunt, who was very little older than himself, laughed sympathetically. It was she who had summoned him to the spot; she who had instructed him in the why and wherefore of the visit; and had the two been alone, she would not even have exclaimed, "Really, George!"

But Lady b.u.t.ts had a daughter, and Gwendoline was listening with the curious ears of thirteen.

"Gwenny will think you mean that," continued her ladyship, with a warning intonation. "She takes your little jokes _au serieux_, you know."