The Obstacle Race Part 34

She coloured a little. "It doesn't really count one way or the other with me, d.i.c.k, any more than it would count with you if I hawked stale fish in the street for cat's meat. You see I haven't forgotten that pretty compliment of yours. But--"

"But?" he said, frowning whimsically. "We'll have the end of that sentence, please. It's the very thing I want to get at. What is the 'but'?"

She hesitated.

"Go on!" he commanded.

"Don't be a tyrant, d.i.c.k!" she said.

"My beautiful princess!" He touched her shoulder with his lips. "Then don't you--please--be a goose! Tell me--quick!"

"And if I can't tell you, d.i.c.k? If--if it's just an instinct that says, Wait? We've been too headlong as it is. I can't--I daren't--go on at this pace." She was almost tearful. "I must have a little breathing-s.p.a.ce indeed. I came here for peace and quietness, as you know."

He broke into a sudden laugh. "So you did, dear. You were playing hide-and-seek with yourself, weren't you? I'll bet you never expected to find the other half of yourself in this remote corner, did you? Well, never mind! Don't cry sweetheart--anyhow till you've got a decent excuse.

I don't want to rush you into anything against your will. Taken properly, I'm the meekest fellow in creation. But we must have things on a sensible footing. You see that, don't you?"

"If we could be just friends," she said.

"Well, I'm quite willing to be friends." He laughed into her eyes. "Why so distressful? Don't you like the prospect?"

She drew his hand down into her lap and held it between her own, looking gravely down at it. "d.i.c.k!" she said.

His smile pa.s.sed. "Well, dear? What is it? You're not going to be afraid of me?"

She did not answer him. "I want you to leave me free a little longer," she said.

"But you are not free now," he said.

She threw him a brief, half-startled glance. "I don't mean that," she said rather haltingly. "I mean I want you--not to ask any promise of me--not to insist upon any bond between us--not to--not to--expect a formal engagement--until,--well, until--"

"Until you are ready to marry me," he suggested quietly.

A quick tremor went through her. "That won't be for a long time," she said.

"How long?" he said.

"I don't know. d.i.c.k. I haven't the least idea. I had almost made up my mind never to marry at all."

"Really?" he said. "Do you know, so had I. But I changed it the moment I met you. When did you change yours?"

She laughed, but without much mirth. "I'm not sure that--"

"No, don't you say that to me!" he interrupted. "It's not cricket. You are--quite sure, though you rather wish you weren't. Isn't that the position? Honestly now!"

"Honestly," she said, "I can't be engaged to you yet."

"All right," he said unexpectedly. "You needn't call it that if you don't want to. Facts are facts. We may not be engaged, but we are--permanently--attached. We'll leave it at that."

Again swiftly she glanced towards him. "No, but, d.i.c.k--"

"Yes, but, Juliet--" His hand moved suddenly, imprisoning both of hers.

"You can't get away," he said, speaking very rapidly, "any more than I can. If you put the whole world between us, we shall still belong to each other. That is irrevocable. It isn't your doing, and it isn't mine. It's a Power above and beyond us both. We can't help ourselves."

He spoke with fierce earnestness, a depth of concentration, that gripped her just as his music had gripped her the night before. She sat motionless, bound by the same spell that had bound her then. She did not want to meet his eyes, but they drew irresistibly. In the end she did so.

For a s.p.a.ce not reckoned by time she surrendered herself to a mastery that would not be denied. She met the kindling flame of his worship, and was strangely awed and humbled thereby. She knew now beyond all question that this man was not as most men. He came to her with the first, untainted offering of his love. No other woman had been before her in that inner sanctuary which he now flung wide for her to enter. There was a purity, a primitive simplicity, about his pa.s.sion which made her realize that very clearly. He was no boy. He had lived a life of hard self-discipline and had put his youth behind him long since. But he brought all the intensity of a boy's adoration to back his manhood's strength of purpose, and before it she was impotent and half-afraid. The men of her world had all been of a totally different mould. She was accustomed to cynicism and the half-mocking homage of jaded experience.

But this was new, this was wonderful--a force that burned and dazzled her, yet which attracted her irresistibly none the less, thrilling her with a rapture that had never before entered her life. Whatever the risk, whatever the penalty, she was bound to go forward now.

She spoke at last, her eyes still held by his. "I think you are right. We can't help it. But oh. d.i.c.k, remember that--remember that--if ever there should come a time when you wish you had done--otherwise!"

"If ever I do what?" he said. "Do you mind saying that again?"

She shook her head. "But I'm not laughing. d.i.c.k. You've carried me out of my depth, and--I'm not a very good swimmer."

"All right, darling," he said. "Lean on me! I'll hold you up."

She clasped his hand tightly. "You will be patient?" she said.

He smiled into her anxious face. "As patient as patient," he said. "That, I take it, means I'm not to tell anybody, does it?"

She bent her head. "Yes, d.i.c.k."

"All right," he said. "I won't tell a soul without your consent. But--"

he leaned nearer to her, speaking almost under his breath--"when I am alone with you, Juliet--I shall take you in my arms--and kiss you--as I have done to-day."

Again a swift tremor went through her. She looked at him no longer. "Oh, but not--not without my leave," she said.

"You will give me leave," he said.

She was silent for a s.p.a.ce. He was drawing her two hands to him, and she tried to resist him. But in the end he had his way, and she yielded with a little laugh that sounded oddly pa.s.sionate.

"I believe you could make me give you anything," she said.

"But you can't give me what is mine already," he made quiet answer, as he pressed the two trembling hands against his heart. "That is understood, isn't it? And when you are tired of working for your living, you will come to me and let me work for you."

"Perhaps," she said, with her head bent.

"Only perhaps?" he said.

His voice was deeply tender. He was trying to look into the veiled eyes.

"Only perhaps?" he said again.

She made a little movement as if she would free herself, but checked it on the instant. Then very slowly she lifted her face to his, but she did not meet his look. Her eyes were closed.

"Some day," she said with quivering lips,--"some day--I will."

He took her face between his hands, and held it so as if he waited for something. Then, after a moment, "Some day--wife of my heart!" he said very softly, and kissed the eyes that would not meet his own.