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SALTASH
The sunshine was no less bright or the day less full of summer warmth when they floated out upon the lake a little later. But Juliet's mood had changed. She leaned back on d.i.c.k's coat in the stern of the boat, drifting her fingers through the rippling water with a thoughtful face.
Once or twice she only nodded when d.i.c.k spoke to her, and he, bending to his sculls, soon fell silent, content to watch her while the golden minutes pa.s.sed.
The lake was long and narrow, surrounded by woodland trees with coloured water-lilies floating here and there upon its surface--a fairy spot, mysterious, green as emerald. The music of the band sounded distant here, almost like the echoes of another world. They reached the middle of the lake, and d.i.c.k suffered his sculls to rest upon the water, sending feathery splashes from their tips that spread in widening circles all around them.
As if in answer to an unspoken word, Juliet's eyes came up to his.
She faintly smiled. "Have you brought that woodland pipe of yours?"
she asked.
He smiled back at her. "No, I am keeping that for another occasion."
She lifted her straight brows interrogatively, without speaking.
He answered her still smiling, but with that in his voice that brought the warm colour to her face. "For the day when we go away, together, sweetheart, and don't come back."
Her eyes sank before his, but in a moment or two she lifted them again, meeting his look with something of an effort. "I wonder, d.i.c.k," she said slowly, "I wonder if we ever shall."
He leaned towards her. "Are you daring me to run away with you?"
She shook her head. "I should probably turn into something very hideous if you did, and that would be--rather terrible for both of us."
"That's a parable, is it?" He was still looking at her keenly, earnestly.
She made a little gesture of remonstrance, as if his regard were too much for her. "You can take it as you please. But as I have no intention of running away with you, perhaps it is beside the point."
He laughed with a hint of mastery. "Our intentions on that subject may not be the same. I'll back mine against yours any day."
She smiled at his words though her colour mounted higher. After a moment she sat up, and laid a hand upon his knee. "d.i.c.k, you're getting too managing--much. I suppose it's the schoolmaster part of you. I daresay you find it gets you the upper hand with a good many, but--it won't with me."
His hand was on hers in an instant, she thrilled to the electricity of his touch. "No--no!" he said. "That's just the soul of me, darling, leaping all the obstacles to reach and hold you. You're not going to tell me you have no use for that?"
"But you promised to be patient," she said.
"Well, I will be. I am. Don't look so serious! What have I done?"
His eyes challenged her to laughter, and she laughed, though somewhat uncertainly. "Nothing--yet, d.i.c.k. But--I don't feel at all sure of you to-day. You make me think of a faun of the woods. I haven't the least idea what you will do next."
"What a mercy I've got you safe in the boat!" he said. "I didn't know you were so shy. What shall I do to rea.s.sure you?"
His hand moved up her wrist with the words, softly pushing up the lacy sleeve, till it found the bend of the elbow, when he stooped and kissed the delicate blue veins, closely with lips that lingered.
Then, his head still bent low, very tenderly he spoke. "Don't be afraid of my love, sweetheart! Let it be your--defence!"
She was sitting very still in his hold save that every fibre of her throbbed at the touch of his lips. But in a moment she moved, touched his shoulder, his neck, with fingers that trembled, finally smoothed the close black hair.
"Why did you make me love you?" she said, and uttered a sharp sigh that caught her unawares.
He laughed as he raised his head. "Poor darling! You didn't want to, did you? Hard lines! I believe it's upset all your plans for the future."
"It has," she said. "At least--it threatens to!"
"What a shame!" He spoke commiseratingly. "And what were your plans--if it isn't impertinent of me to ask?"
She smiled faintly. "Well, marriage certainly wasn't one of them. And I'm not sure that it is now. I feel like the girl in _Marionettes_--Cynthia Paramount--who said she didn't think any women ought to marry until she had been engaged at least six times."
"That little beast!" d.i.c.k sat up suddenly and returned to his sculls.
"Juliet, why did you read that book? I told you not to."
Her smile deepened though her eyes were grave. She clasped her fingers about her knees. "My dear d.i.c.k, that's why. It didn't hurt me like _The Valley of Dry Bones_. In fact I was feeling so nice and superior when I read it that I rather enjoyed it."
d.i.c.k sent the boat through the water with a long stroke. His face was stern. After a moment Juliet looked at him. "Are you cross with me because I read it, d.i.c.k?"
His face softened instantly. "With you! What an idea!"
"With the man who wrote it then?" she suggested. "He exasperates me intensely. He has such a maddeningly clear vision, and he is so inevitably right."
"And yet you persist in reading him!" d.i.c.k's voice had a faintly mocking note.
"And yet I persist in reading him. You see, I am a woman, d.i.c.k. I haven't your lordly faculty for ignoring the people I most dislike. I detest Dene Strange, but I can't overlook him. No one can. I think his character studies are quite marvellous. That girl and her endless flirtations, and then--when the real thing comes to her at last--that unspeakable man of iron refusing to take her because she had jilted another man, ruining both their lives for the sake of his own rigid code! He didn't deserve her in any case. She was too good for him with all her faults." Juliet paused, studying her lover's face attentively. "I hope you're not that sort of man, d.i.c.k," she said.
He met her eyes. "Why do you say that?"
"Because there's a high-priestly expression about your mouth that rather looks as if you might be. Please don't tell me if you are because it will spoil all my pleasure! Give me a cigarette instead and let's enjoy ourselves!"
"You'll find the case in my coat behind," he said. "But, Juliet, though I wouldn't spoil your pleasure for the world, I must say one thing. If a woman engages herself to a man, I consider she is bound in honour to fulfil her engagement--unless he sets her free. If she is an honourable woman, she will never free herself without his consent. I hold that sort of engagement to be a debt of honour--as sacred as the marriage vow itself."
"Even though she realizes that she is going to make a mistake?" said Juliet, beginning to search the coat.
"Whatever the circ.u.mstances," he said. "An engagement can only be broken by mutual consent. Otherwise, the very word becomes a farce. I have no sympathy with jilts of either s.e.x. I think they ought to be kicked out of decent society."
Juliet found the cigarettes and looked up with a smile. "I think you and Dene Strange ought to collaborate," she said. "You would soon put this naughty world to rights between you. Now open your mouth and shut your eyes, and if you're very good I'll light it for you!"
There was in her tone, despite its playfulness, a delicate finality that told him plainly that she had no intention of pursuing the subject further, and, curiously, the man's heart smote him for a moment. He felt as if in some fashion wholly inexplicable he had hurt her.
"You're not vexed with me, sweetheart?" he said.
She looked at him still smiling, but her look, her smile, were more of a veil than a revelation. "With you! What an idea!" she said, softly mocking.
"Ah, don't!" he said. "I'm not like that, Juliet!"
She held up the cigarette. "Quite ready? Ah, d.i.c.k! Don't--don't upset the boat!"
For the sculls floated loose again in the rowlocks. He had her by the wrists, the arms, the shoulders. He had her, suddenly and very closely, against his heart. He covered her face with his kisses, so that she gasped and gasped for breath, half-laughing, half-dismayed.
"d.i.c.k, how--how disgraceful of you! d.i.c.k, you mustn't! Someone--someone will see us!"
"Let them!" he said, grimly reckless. "You brought it on yourself. How dare you tell me I'm like a high priest? How dare you, Juliet?"