The Cathedral Part 53

The music stopped and, breathless, they stayed for a moment before finding two chairs. Now was coming the time that she so greatly disliked. Whatever to say to Mr. Forsyth?

They sat down in the long pa.s.sage outside the ballroom. The floor ran like a ribbon from under their feet into dim shining distance. Or rather, Joan thought, it was like a stream, and on either side the dancers were sitting, dabbling their toes and looking self-conscious.

"Do you like it where you are?" Joan asked of the shining black silk waistcoat that gleamed beside her.

"Oh, you know...." neighed Mr. Forsyth. "It's all right, you know. The old Bishop's kind enough."

"Bishop Clematis?" said Joan.

"Yes. There ain't enough to do, you know. But I don't expect I'll be there long. No, I don't.... Pity poor Morrison at Pybus dying like that."

Joan of course at once understood the allusion. She also understood that Mr. Forsyth was begging her to bestow upon him any little piece of news that she might have obtained. But that seemed to her mean--spying--spying on her own father. So she only said:

"You're very fond of riding, aren't you?"

"Love it," said Mr. Forsyth, whinnying so exactly like a happy pony that Joan jumped. "Don't you?"

"I've never been on horseback in my life," said Joan. "I'd like to try."

"Never in your life?" Mr. Forsyth stared. "Why, I was on a pony before I was three. Fact. Good for a clergyman, riding----"

"I think it's nearly time for the next dance," said Joan. "Would you kindly take me back to my mother?"

She was conscious, as they plunged down-stream, of all the burning glances. She held her head high. Her eyes flashed. She was going to dance with Johnny, and they could look as much as they liked.

Mr. Forsyth delivered her to her mother and went cantering off. Joan sat down, smoothed her dress and stared at the vast shiny lake of amber in which the silver candelabra were reflected like little islands. She looked at her mother and was suddenly sorry for her. It must be dull, when you were as old as mother, coming to these dances--and especially when you had so few friends. Her mother had never made many friends.

"Wasn't that Mr. Morris who was talking to you just now?"

"Yes, dear."

"I like him. He looks kind."

"Yes, dear."

"And where's father?"

"Over there, talking to Lady St. Leath."

She looked across, and there he was, so big and tall and fine, so splendid in his grand clothes. Her heart swelled with pride.

"Isn't he splendid, mother, dear?"

"Who?"

"Father!"

"Splendid?"

"Yes; doesn't he look splendid to-night? Better looking than all the rest of the room put together?" (Johnny wasn't _good-looking_. Better than _good-looking_.)

"Oh--look splendid. Yes. He's a very handsome man."

Joan felt once again that little chill with which she was so often familiar when she talked with her mother--a sudden withdrawal of sympathy, a pushing Joan away with her hand.

But never mind--there was the music again, and here, oh, here, was Johnny!

Someone had once called him Tubby in her hearing, and how indignant she had been! He was perhaps a little on the fat side, but strong with it....

She went off with him. The waltz began.

She sank into sweet delicious waters--waters that rocked and cradled her, hugged her and caressed her. She was conscious of his arm. She did not speak nor did he. Years of utter happiness pa.s.sed....

He did not take her, as Mr. Forsyth had done, into the public glare of the pa.s.sage, but up a crooked staircase behind the Minstrels' Gallery into a little room, cool and shaded, where, in easy-chairs, they were quite alone.

He was shy, fingering his gloves. She said (just to make conversation):

"How beautiful Miss Daubeney is looking!"

"Do you think so?" said Johnny. "I don't. I'm sick of that girl. She's the most awful bore. Mother's always shoving her at my head. She's been staying with us for months. She wants me to marry her because she's rich.

But we've got plenty, and I wouldn't marry her anyway, not if we hadn't a penny. Because she's a bore, and because"--his voice became suddenly loud and commanding--"I'm going to marry you."

Something--some lovely bird of Paradise, some splendid coloured breeze, some carpet of magic pattern--came and swung Joan up to a high tree loaded with golden apples. There she swung--singing her heart out. Johnny's voice came up to her.

"Because I'm going to marry you."

"What?" she called down to him.

"I'm going to marry you. I knew it from the very first second I saw you, that day after Cathedral--from the very first moment I knew it. I wanted to ask you right away at once, but I thought I'd do the thing properly, so I went away, and I've been in Paris and Rome and all over the place, and I've thought of you the _whole_ time--every minute. Then mother made a fuss about this Daubeney girl--my not being here and all that--so I thought I'd come home and tell you I was going to marry you."

"Oh, but you can't." Joan swung down from her appletree. "You and me? Why, what _would_ your mother say?"

"It isn't a case of _would_ but _will_" Johnny said. "Mother will be very angry--and for a considerable time. But that makes no difference. Mother's mother and I'm myself."

"It's impossible," said Joan quickly, "from every point of view. Do you know what my brother has done? I'm proud of Falk and love him; but you're Lord St. Leath, and Falk has married the daughter of Hogg, the man who keeps a public-house down in Seatown."

"I heard of that," said Johnny. "But what does that matter? Do you know what I did last year? I crossed the Atlantic as a stoker in a Cunard boat.

Mother never knew until I got back, and _wasn't_ she furious! But the world's changing. There isn't going to be any cla.s.s difference soon--none at all. You take my word. Look at the Americans! They're the people! We'll be like them one day.... But what's all this?" he suddenly said. "I'm going to marry you and you're going to marry me. You love me, don't you?"

"Yes," said Joan faintly.

"Well, then. I knew you did. I'm going to kiss you." He put his arms around her and kissed her very gently.

"Oh, how I love you!" he said, "and how good I'll be to you!"

"But we must be practical," said Joan wildly. "How can we marry?

Everything's against it. I've no money. I'm n.o.body. Your mother----"

"Now you just leave my mother alone. Leave me to manage her--I know all about that----"

"I won't be engaged to you," Joan said firmly, "not for ages and ages--not for a year anyway."