The Limit Part 33

"And eyelids too," said Harry. "I dare say he pretends not to see that Vaughan admires you. Too indolent to bother about it."

"Really. Harry--you go too far. Are you thinking of pointing it out?"

She got up.

"One second," said Harry pleadingly. "It's cruel of you to go now."

"I thought you said we'd better get back?"

"Your hands look so lovely by this light," he spoke in his softest voice.

"We really must go."

"Then at half-past three. I'll bring my sketchbook. Do you know where the key is? Perhaps you've lost it. You are so dreadfully careless." He now spoke in the tone of a reproving husband.

"I've got it. Do you think we'd better? I'm rather tired. Shall you be able to wake?"

Harry turned away.

"All right, it doesn't matter, Val. I shall be going soon, and then----"

She followed him quickly.

"No, no, Harry. Of course."

He gave her a grateful look. They joined the group on the little verandah in front of the house. Van Buren was sitting in the corner and seemed in the depths of depression. From the windows could be heard once more strains of music. Daphne was playing an accompaniment. Muir had again begun the song, and got a little further into it--"_It is not because thy heart is mine, mine only, mine alone._" But Vaughan came up promptly and stopped it.

CHAPTER XXVII

SEEING THE SUN RISE

What a delicate air there was in the garden! There had been a little rain in the night, but Valentia supposed it to be dew. Every little sound seemed the softest music, to the sound of which little dainty things seemed to be dancing in the air. The Green Gate, a red Georgian house, seen in the early glamour with all its blinds down, except one, seemed like a thing half asleep with one eye open.

For a moment she was a little frightened. He was late. She had perhaps got up for nothing. But no, it was worth it. It was lovely here.

Another eye of the house slowly opened, and soon Romeo, or Paolo, or Faust, appeared. True, he was disguised as a flannelled fool, with a sketch-book under his arm. But it _was_ Faust, or Romeo, or Paolo, all the same. He looked very handsome. The thought of scoring off other people in the house had raised his spirits and had even made him wake up in time. Valentia's conversation with Vaughan, whom she knew to be honest and believed to be brilliant, had left a certain insidious influence on her which would tell gradually, and yet their talk had had rather a contradictory effect for the moment. She wanted to prove to herself that he was wrong. And Harry felt that his time was growing short. Very soon he must put an end to it all.

This thought made him more affectionate. It occurred to him for a moment that he would tell her in the orchard; but, of course, he didn't. Every day he thought he would tell her, and something always happened to prevent it. Besides, there would have to be a quarrel anyhow at the end, so why make it longer than necessary?

They sat down under the cherry-tree.

"Fancy you, Valentia, a minion of the moon, rising before dawn! Let me look at you. You fill me with wonder and joy."

"Did you mind getting up _very_ much, Harry?"

"It _was_ rather hard. Listen!... That's a thrush, making a scene with another thrush in the tree."

"Is it? How do you know?"

"Of course it is! How do _you_ know things? How did you know exactly what to wear, Val? I knew you had clothes for every possible occasion; but still, to choose the _exact_ right dress to put on to meet your cousin at dawn in the orchard seems--well, rather extraordinary. Pinkish blue--or is it bluish pink?--to match the sky. How jolly! It fastens in front."

"Well, of course I couldn't expect Ogburn to get up in the middle of the night."

"And no hatpins for once, thank goodness."

"Well, if we _sat up_ till now I shouldn't be wearing a hat, should I?"

"Don't argue. It's too early."

"It isn't really early. It's very late."

"Oh, Val! You're being logical."

He took her hands and looked at them, and quoted--

"_They are pale with the pallor of ivories, But they blush at the tips like a curved sea-sh.e.l.l._"

"Oh, Harry!"

He was thinking. He looked almost miserable. "I don't see--I must admit--how I shall ever be able to leave your hands!"

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Why should you? What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I only meant I couldn't...."

"Oh!"

"What's that?... Some one coming along the lawn."

"Doesn't it sound curious?" she said--"so _rustly_!"

"Who can it be? Surely your friend Vaughan couldn't get up at this hour."

"Nonsense! Of course not. They're coming here." She jumped up.

"Go and open the gate at once," said Harry, giving her the key. "I'll wait here a minute." While she obeyed he used a good deal of language.

He now felt that he would give all he possessed to keep her there five minutes longer.

"Fancy! It's Romer!" exclaimed Valentia. "He hasn't seen me yet."

"Go to him at _once_. Tell him you got up to see the sun rise. I'll come directly and join you. Oh, confound it! _Do_ look sharp. Seem pleased to see him." He spoke in a harsh tone of command.

She ran to meet Romer, saying jokingly, "Fancy meeting you!"