The Man with the Double Heart Part 74

Jill, breathless, escaped from him, cheeks flushed, her eyes brilliant.

"Peter--you brute!" she straightened her hat.

"That's a nice thing to say"--he laughed back--"to your lord and master."

"You're not!" she mocked, teasing him, "I never said 'obey,' you know."

"No wonder the Bishop looked so grave. We'll have to be married over again..." He broke off, his hand to his collar, wriggling his neck.

"Confound that boy! I've got rice all down my back."

"Good old Roddy--I saw him do it! In the car, coming over the Downs.

No ... no!" she stamped her foot.... "Be quiet now, I want to read."

She tore open the envelope directed by Aunt Elizabeth. It held another, tightly sealed, and a letter in the pointed hand.

"My dear Jill," so it ran, "I've asked Peter to give you this, and I only hope you won't lose it, with your usual carelessness. I'd better tell you at once, there's money enclosed--in five-pound notes. I understand that even in Italy English notes are respected.

"You needn't trouble to thank me for it. You'd have had it some day anyhow. Also the cheque I've placed with Cook's--in Rome--to your account there.

"Your husband may be all you think. Time alone will prove this--('Oh, Peter--isn't she lovely?'--Jill chuckled with delight.) But I don't like to think of you in a foreign land, without credit. It's lowering for a woman, too, to go to her husband for every penny. Besides, though I've done all I could, your trousseau is an utter farce. You ought to have twelve of everything. And _marked_, don't forget that!

"Not twelve husbands, let us hope!" McTaggart leaned over her shoulder, as they sat on the narrow berth, side by side, in the dim-lit cabin, reading the letter.

"How shall I be 'marked,' Jill? I hope it doesn't mean hot irons?"

"Like this!" Jill pinched him. "Be quiet now--Listen, Peter. Isn't she an old _dear_?

"You'll find notes for fifty pounds. Don't go and spend it all at once in a present for your worthless husband! ... And _don't spoil him_.

From the start, hold your own. I know men!"

"Oh! Aunt Elizabeth!" McTaggart rocked with mirth. "It's hardly respectable, is it, Jill? I'm afraid she's had a shocking 'Past.'"

"Anyhow, her Present's all right!" said Jill neatly, folding the letter. "She is good"--her face went grave. "D'you think I really ought to take it?"

"You must. She'd be most awfully hurt."

He nodded his head wisely at Jill. "We'll make it up to her one day--give her a topping good time and ... oh, I say?" He shifted a little in order to see his wife's face.

"I've got to confess something, Jill. Something I did before I left.

Promise you won't be cross with me?"

"So have I," said Jill quickly. "I quite forgot ... Let's get it over.

You first." Absently, she handed across the wad of notes.

McTaggart smiled.

"No--they're yours. You must guard them from the 'worthless husband.'"

"I daren't. I shall lose them," she declared. "Do take them, Peter dear."

"All right." He placed them away in his pocketbook, with secret amus.e.m.e.nt.

"It's about your mother," he went on. Jill gave a little start. "I felt so bothered last night--I suppose you'll think me a thorough turn-coat--but I couldn't sleep, thinking of it. She's been so awfully kind to me. And at last I got up and wrote a letter--a nice one"--he glanced at Jill nervously, but she simply nodded. "I tried to show her why we'd done this. And then ... I added"--he broke off--"I hope you won't be angry, Jill, I ought to have told you--discussed it first.

But I went out and posted it--on the impulse. To Worthing, you know.

She'll find it when she returns to-morrow..."

"_What_ did you add?" Jill was impatient. "Do go on." She shook his arm.

"Well. I said..." he began to stammer a little. "I s-said I hoped she'd stay with us--our first vi-visitor, you know. _Don't_ be cross..."

But Jill's answer swiftly dispelled the man's doubts. For she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him, her face radiant.

"So have I! I mean I wrote to Mother myself yesterday. Isn't it funny? I gave it to Roddy to hand to her the moment she gets home to-morrow! That's my secret"--she drew back, her eyes thoughtful--"You see, I felt ... it was rather mean--I was so happy--to leave her out.

D'you understand?"

"Same here." McTaggart nodded. "I'm glad you have. It will pave the way to better relations bye and bye. She must come to us whenever she can."

There fell a little pause between them. Jill's thoughts had turned back to her old life and her brother. Her grey eyes grew wistful.

McTaggart saw this. He rose to his feet.

"Look here, Jill--come outside. We'll have a turn up and down the deck. It will do you good before the train."

"All right. Where's my ulster?"

"Here." McTaggart reached up, unhooked a pale grey coat beside his own and handed it with a mischievous smile to his wife.

"That's not mine." Jill stared.

"Yes, it is. Try it on."

"_Peter!_" Jill pa.s.sed a hand lovingly over the rich fur, the beautiful collar of chinchilla and sumptuous lining--warm and soft.

"It's a little present. I had it made. Aunt Elizabeth got the measures. D'you like it?"

Jill's face answered him. She could not speak, for very wonder.

"Really mine?" she said at last. "I never saw such lovely fur! Oh, Peter! how extravagant. You mustn't spoil me like this..."

"I expect payment--of a kind!" He took it--(with interest.) "Now, slip it on. There--that's fine! You look like a little Teddy bear."

He opened the door and the bright light swept in, dazzling them. Blue sky and blue sea and a fresh wind, salt and keen.

Far behind them lay the coast, the broad waves rolling along to the French sh.o.r.e and that new life they faced with the confidence of youth.

"The first time," said McTaggart--"that I really knew how pretty you were, you had on a little grey fur cap. That's why I chose chinchilla for you."

"But that was Rabbit!" Jill laughed. "I've never had any _good_ clothes. Until my trousseau," she said proudly and glanced down at her simple dress.