Wild Heather Part 36

"Selfish? By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Little you know about selfishness when you accuse me of it."

"Oh, Vernon," I said, "I'm just so happy I scarcely know what to do. But because I am so happy I don't want the one I love best in all the world after yourself to be out in the cold."

"What do you mean by that, Heather dear?"

"Just what I say. I don't want to leave my own darling father absolutely miserable."

"Jove! you're right there. But what can you do? You can't part a man from his lawful wife."

"No more I can--that's quite true; but I do want to see him and--I must see Lady Helen, too. Vernon, you'll help me, won't you?"

"By all means," he answered. "But now, let us talk of ourselves. How soon do you think we can be married--in a fortnight? Surely a fortnight would be long enough for any reasonable girl."

"I am by no means certain of that," I replied. "I will marry you, Vernon, as soon as ever I can put other matters right."

"Oh, but I have a voice in this, for I mean to marry you without a moment's delay--that is, I mean that I will give you one fortnight and not an hour beyond. It is the fashion now to be married by banns. Well, we'll have our banns cried on Sunday next and on the following Sunday and the Sunday after, and we can be married on the Monday after that.

That's about right, isn't it? That's as it ought to be."

"Vernon, you are so--so impulsive."

"Well, little girl, I'm made like that. When I want a thing I generally contrive to get it, and that as soon as possible. Jove! I did have work in getting you. If I hadn't thought and thought, and very nearly driven myself distracted, do you imagine for a single moment I'd have ferreted out that secret of Gideon Dalrymple's? So much thinking is exceedingly bad for a fellow, Heather, and the sooner you can set his heart at rest, the better for his general health."

"All right," I replied. "I will marry you in a fortnight if father is happy and if Aunt Penelope is satisfied."

"You needn't doubt her," said Vernon. "I put the question to her before you entered the drawing-room. When you were upstairs, putting on that pretty frock and tidying your hair, I had the brunt of the business settled with her. She likes sharp work; she told me so. When you appeared on the scene I was quite like an old family man pouring out the tea for her, and all the rest."

"There never was anyone like you," I said, and I took his hand timidly in mine.

"Come--this is all nonsense! Kiss me, Heather."

"No, no, Vernon--I--I can't."

"Don't be a dear little goose. I must be paid for what I've done. Kiss me this instant."

"It's your place----" I began.

"All right, if that's how you put it."

He clasped his arms round me and drew me close to him and kissed me over and over and over again.

"There now," he said; "it's your turn."

"But you have kissed me."

"Of course, I have. I want _you_ to kiss _me_. Now begin. Come, Heather, don't be shy."

I did kiss him, and after I had kissed him once I kissed him again, and my dark eyes looked into his blue ones, and I seemed to see the steadfast, bright, honourable soul that dwelt within his breast, and I knew that I was the happiest of girls.

We went slowly back from the Downs into the more shady part of the little town. We stopped at Aunt Penelope's house. A great deal had been happening in our absence. b.u.t.tons was flying about like a creature demented, the parrot was calling in a voice loud enough to deafen you: "Stop knocking at the door!" and Aunt Penelope was in her very best cap and in her softest and most stately black silk dress. She wore black silk dresses of the sort which are never seen now. It was thick; it would almost stand by itself; it had a ribby sort of texture, and in order to enrich the silk it was heavily trimmed with bands of black velvet and with a fringe of what they called black bugles. The effect was at once dull and extremely handsome. It suited Aunt Penelope to a nicety--that and her little cap with the real point lace and the soft mauve ribbons.

When I appeared she just nodded to me and said something to Vernon, and he said: "Yes, certainly." I ran upstairs. Presently I heard a tap at my door. I went to open it; Aunt Penelope stood outside.

"May I come in, Heather?"

"Of course, darling auntie."

I took her hand; I drew her into the room.

"Heather, I know--it's too wonderful. What a splendid fellow! Heather, I am glad."

"Oh, auntie, my heart is bursting with happiness!"

"Heather, child, I'm a woman of few words, but if your mother were alive she'd be proud of this day. He has the very soul of honesty in his face; he is better looking than your poor dear father ever was, but he has the same sort of nature, so boyish, so impulsive, so brave. He's a dear--that's all that I can say about him."

"And if you weren't a dear for your own sake, you'd be one for calling him one," was my somewhat incoherent answer.

"Well, now, that's enough sentiment, child; we must to business. How do you like my dress?"

"It's magnificent--and you have put it on in honour of me."

"In honour of a captain in His Majesty's army. Child, I do so greatly respect army men."

"Oh, yes, I see. Thank you, so do I. Indeed, it's a very handsome dress," I continued.

"I think so," she replied. "It was made fifteen years ago, at least. I only wear it on the very best occasions, otherwise it would have got greasy ages and ages before now. It's amazing how difficult it is to keep these really good silks from turning greasy; the grease seems to cling to them in some sort of fashion, and you can never get it out, try as you will."

"It looks awfully nice--it really does, auntie."

"I am proud to be wearing it for your sake and for his to-night."

"And you have asked him to dinner?"

"Yes. I have come to speak of that. It is a real dinner; Jonas and I have concocted it between us. You are to know nothing about it; you are just to eat it when it comes on the table, and to be right-down thankful. Now that you are happy you must eat well, for nothing in some ways takes it out of one more than happiness. You have been looking sadly worn out, child, and now you have got to eat and drink and get your pretty, youthful roses back again. Oh, Heather, Vernon agrees with me about the world; he hates fashionable people. He told me, dear boy, that for a short time he was engaged to one of them. I never met anybody so confiding."

"I know all about his engagement," I said. "I saw her once, too; she was very handsome."

"Ah, yes; I have no doubt--a society doll. Well, he hasn't chosen badly, when he's elected that your little face and your brown eyes and your warm heart shall accompany him through life. You'd best smarten yourself up a bit for dinner, Heather; I don't want your old aunt to take the shine out of you, my love--and, remember, this dress is uncommonly handsome."

"Yes, auntie, I know. I shouldn't be surprised if you did take the shine out of me; but I don't think I shall greatly mind."

So I put on a pretty white dress, for a few of my dresses had been sent from London, doubtless by my dear father's orders, and ran downstairs.

Bless that boy b.u.t.tons--he had effected marvels! The tiny dining room was gay with flowers, the very best old dinner service had been got out for the occasion, the best silver had been polished up, and I, who was accustomed to doing pretty nearly half the work of the house, wasn't allowed to put my hand to anything. I really felt annoyed. I did not like to be at Hill View without attending to its household economy.

Vernon came in from his rooms at the little hotel, looking spick and span, as he always did. We three sat down to dinner, and certainly that dinner was a triumph. I have often puzzled myself to wonder how Aunt Penelope contrived to manage it. First of all there was soup, the best soup I had ever tasted, and then there was fish, trout which had been alive a couple of hours before, and then there was pigeon pie and peas and potatoes, and afterwards strawberries and cream. There was also a bottle of very old port wine, which Aunt Penelope fingered with a trembling hand.

"I have had it in the house since long before your mother was married,"

she said to me. "Vernon, my boy, you will find it worthy of even your refined tastes."