The Great Miss Driver Part 43

"I don't want to, you know--unless I'm driven," said Jenny.

"You mustn't do it," he told her, with some return of his authority. He softened the next moment; "I don't believe you would."

"Run no risks--advise your friends to run none. You've seen enough of me now to know that it's not safe to conclude I shan't do a thing just because I think it's wrong--or even because I don't at this moment mean to do it. I have to reckon with a temper; others had better reckon with it, too."

Alison looked at me, pursing up his lips. "I think that she points out a real danger."

"I'm sure she does," I rejoined. "And you must reckon with it."

"Yes," he murmured, his eyes again searching her face. She nodded her head ever so slightly at him with a defiant smile. "But losing your temper oughtn't to be relied on as a resource. Reckon with it if you like--not on it, Miss Driver."

Jenny laughed outright at that. "He hits me hard--but it makes no difference," she said to me. "The plan stands." She turned quickly on him: "In the end, what do you make of it?" She stretched out her right hand. "Are even good things soiled if they are taken from that hand?"

"The pity of it!" he murmured, with a soft intonation of profound sorrow.

"The child's a pearl. Let her be happy! Is the beauty of it nothing to you?"

"Yes, it's much--and your love for her is much." He paused a moment.

"And perhaps I should be overbold to speak against that other love of yours--now. Maybe it lies beyond the jurisdiction committed to us here on earth."

Jenny was, I fear, entirely devoted to earth and, at that moment, to arranging her own bit of earth as she wanted to have it. She gave him no thanks for what was, from him, a very considerable concession. Rather she fastened on his softer mood as affording her an opportunity.

"Then you oughtn't to be against me," she urged.

"I'm not against you. This is not my ground--not my business."

"You might even help me." He looked doubtful at that. "Simply in one way. There's one little thing you can do easily, though it's difficult for me. For all the rest, I leave you to do anything or nothing, just as you think proper."

"What's the one little thing?" he asked.

"Bring Lord Fillingford and Margaret together. It's very easy--except for me--and it commits you to nothing. Give her her chance. Anyhow, none of the trouble's her fault, is it?"

"There doesn't seem much harm in that."

"Give him no hint of what I've said. It would be so much better if the idea could come from himself."

"Impossible!" he cried.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "He seems to be very frightened.

How about some idea of--the lesser evil? He'd still be shocked--but his mind might be a little prepared."

"You're altogether too--well, shall I say diplomatic?--for me."

"Come, come," I interposed, "don't do the Church injustice!"

"Let's go out," said Jenny. "Wait a minute--I'll get a hat, and join you on the terrace. I expect Margaret and Amyas are still there." She walked out of the room with a light buoyant tread. Alison turned to me with a bewildered gesture of his arms, yet with a reluctant smile on his face.

"What am I to work on? I don't believe the woman has any conception of what sin means!"

"She has a considerable conception of the consequences of her actions."

"My dear fellow, as if that was at all the same thing! And what's her new game? What's she taking me on the terrace for?"

"To have a cup of tea, I suppose. It's nearly half-past five."

"I'll never give her credit for being as simple as that!" He was disapproving, but good-natured--and altogether occupied with Jenny in his mind. "I shall never get hold of her--I once thought I should. A pagan--a mere pagan!" He paused again and added with a reluctant admiration, "A splendid pagan!"

"There are fifty roads to town--and rather more to heaven," I quoted.

"Who said that?"

"William Mackworth Praed--and you ought to have known it."

"I daresay he knew the roads to town, Austin."

"In both cases the criticism is obvious--much depends on where you start from."

We were on the terrace now. At the other end of it we saw Margaret and Lacey walking up and down together. The tea table was deserted, and probably the tea was cold; we were neither of us thinking about it.

Alison had put on his hat, but now he bared his head again to the evening breeze.

"Phew, that was a fight!" he said. "And I suppose I'm beaten! But if she yields to that temper of hers, I'll have no more to do with her."

"But if she doesn't--if she needn't?" I suggested.

He made no answer. I saw his eyes wander to the shapely couple that walked up and down.

"Why shouldn't the child have her chance?"

"You're tempters all in this house!" he declared.

Margaret and Lacey suddenly came toward us--no, toward Jenny, who had just come out of the house. She stood there, near the door, quite quietly--with all her gift of serene immobility brought into play. There was no signing to them, no beckoning: but at once, out of the midst of their delighted preoccupation, they came. I permitted myself a discreet glance at Alison; he was watching. I wondered whether he were any nearer to a theory of why Jenny had proposed that we should come out on the terrace.

Margaret Octon ran on ahead of her companion and caught hold of Jenny's arm. Lacey came up a second later. I saw Jenny give him a smile of the fullest understanding. The young man flushed suddenly, then laughed in an embarra.s.sed way.

"I know I've been here an awful time. I thought you were never coming out," he said.

"The time seemed so long till I came, did it?" asked Jenny. She stooped and kissed Margaret on the forehead. The girl laughed--very gently, very happily. Jenny looked at Alison across the few feet that divided the two small groups. Her look was an appeal--an appeal from the shy happiness on the girl's face to the natural man that was beneath Alison's canonicals. "Shan't the girl have her chance?" asked Jenny's eyes.

Suddenly Alison left my side and walked up to her.

"I must go now," he said, rather hastily, rather (to tell the truth) as though he were ashamed of himself. "I think I can manage that little commission."

She moved one step forward to meet him. "I shall be very grateful," she told him in her low, rich, steady tones. "The other way wouldn't have been nearly so--convenient." Her bright eyes were triumphant. "Soon?"

she asked.

"I can manage it in a day or two at longest. And now good-by. I fear I've tired you with all my business."

The young people listened, all innocent of the covert meanings.