by Anthony Hope
CHAPTER III
ALL NONSENSE
On the evening of the next day, while the sun was still on the Pool,and its waters, forgetful of darker moods and bygone tragedies, smiledunder the tickling of darting golden gleams, a girl sat on the broadlowest step of the temple. She had rolled the sleeves of her white gownabove her elbow, up well-nigh to her shoulder, and, the afternoon beingsultry, from time to time dipped her arms in the water and, taking themout again, amused herself by watching the bright drops race down to herrosy fingertips. The sport was good, apparently, for she laughed andflung back her head so that the stray locks of hair might not spoil hersight of it. On either side of this lowest step there was a margin ofsmooth level grass, and, being unable as she sat to bathe both arms atonce, presently she moved on to the grass and lay down, sinking herelbows in the pond and leaning her face over the edge of it. Theposture had another advantage she had not thought of, and she laughedagain when she saw her own eyes twinkling at her from the depths. Asshe lay there a longing came upon her.
"If I could be sure he wouldn't come I'd dip my feet," she murmured.
As, however, he had come every evening for a fortnight past the fancywas not to be indulged, and she consoled herself by a deeper dive yetof her arms and by drooping her head till her nose and the extremefringe of her eyelashes were wetted, and the stray locks floated oneither side.
Presently, as she still looked, she saw another shadow on the water,and exchanged with her image a confidential glance.
"You again?" she asked.
The other shadow nodded.
"Why didn't you come in the canoe?"
"Because people see it."
It struck her that her attitude was unconventional, and by a lithecomplicated movement, whereof Charlie noticed only the elegance and notthe details, she swept round and, sitting, looked up at him.
"I know who she was," she observed.
"She very nearly knew who you were. You oughtn't to have come to thewindow."
"She thought I was the ghost."
"You shouldn't reckon on people being foolish."
"Shouldn't I? Yet I reckoned on your coming--or there'd have been somemore of me in the water."
"I wish I were an irregular man," said Charlie.
She was slowly turning down her sleeves, and, ignoring his remark,said, with a question in her tones:
"Nettie Wallace says that Willie Prime says that everybody says thatyou're going to marry that girl."
"I believe it's quite true."
"Oh!" and she looked across the Pool.
"True that everybody says so," added Charlie. "Why do you turn downyour sleeves?"
"How funny I must have looked, sprawling on the bank like that!" sheremarked.
"Awful!" said Charlie, sitting down.
She looked at him with uneasiness in her eye.
"Nothing but an ankle, I swear," he answered.
She blushed and smiled.
"I think you should whistle, or something, as you come."
"Not I," said Charlie, with decision.
Suddenly she turned to him with a serious face, or one that tried to beserious.
"Why do you come?" she asked.
"Why do I eat?" he returned.
"And yet you were angry the first time."
"Nobody likes to be caught ranting out poetry especially his own."
"I believe you were frightened--you thought I was Agatha. The poetrywas about her, wasn't it?"
"It's not at all a bad poem," observed Charlie.
"You remember I liked it so much that I clapped my hands."
"And I jumped!"
The girl laughed.
"Ah, well," she said, "it's time to go home."
"Oh, dear, no," said Charlie!
"But I've promised to be early, because Willie Prime's coming, and I'mto be introduced to him."
"Willie Prime can wait. He's got Miss Wallace to comfort him, and I'vegot nobody to comfort me."
"Oh, yes. Miss Bushell."
"You know her name?"
"Yes--and yours--your surname, I mean; you told me the other."
"That's more than you've done for me."
"I told you my name was Agatha."
"Ah, but that was a joke. I'd been talking about Agatha Merceron."
"Very well. I'm sorry it doesn't satisfy you. If you won't believeme--!"
"But your surname?"
"Oh, mine? Why, mine's Brown."
"Brown!" re-echoed Charlie, with a tinge of disappointment in his tone.
"Don't you like it?" asked Miss Agatha Brown with a smile.
"Oh, it will do for the present," laughed Charlie.
"Well, I don't mean to keep it all my life. I've spent to-day, Mr.Merceron, in spying out your house. Nettie Wallace and I ventured quitenear. It's very pretty."
"Rather dilapidated, I'm afraid."
"What's the time, Mr. Merceron?"
"Half-past six. Oh, by Jove!"
"Well? Afraid of seeing poor Agatha?"
"I should see nobody but you, if you were here. No. I forgot that.I've got to meet someone at the station at a quarter-past seven."
"Oh, do tell me who?"
"You'd be none the wiser. It's a Mr. Victor Sutton."
"Victor Sutton!" she exclaimed, with a glance at Charlie which passedunnoticed by him. "Is he a friend of yours?"
"I suppose so. Of my family's, anyhow."
"Good-by. I'm going," she announced.
"You'll be here to-morrow?"
"Yes. For the last time."
She dropped this astounding thunderbolt on Charlie's head as though ithad been the most ordinary remark in the world.
"The last time! Oh, Miss---" No: somehow he could not lay his tongue tothat "Miss Brown."
"I can't spend all my life in Lang Marsh," said she.
"Agatha," he burst out.
"No, no. This is not the last time. Sha'n't we keep that?" she asked,with a provokingly light-hearted smile.
"You promise to be here to-morrow?"
"Oh, yes."
"I shall have something to say to you then," Charlie announced with asignificant air.
"Oh, you never lack conversation."
"You'll be here at five?"
"Precisely," she answered with mock gravity; "and now I'm gone!"
Charlie took off his straw hat, stretched out his right hand, and tookhers. For a moment she drew back, but he looked very handsome andgallant as he bowed his head down to her hand, and she checked themovement.
"Oh, well!" she murmured; she was protesting against any importancebeing attached to the incident.
Charlie, having paid his homage, walked, or rather ran, swiftly away.To begin with, he had none too much time if he was to meet VictorSutton; secondly, he was full of a big resolve, and that generallymakes a man walk fast.
The lady pursued a more leisurely progress. Swinging her hat in herhand, she made her way through the tangled wood back to the high-road,and turned towards Mr. Prime's farm. She went slowly along, thinkingperhaps of the attractive young fellow she had left behind her,wondering perhaps why she had promised to meet him again. She did notknow why, for there was sure to happen at that last meeting the onething which she did not, she supposed, wish to happen. However, apromise is a promise. She heard the sound of wheels behind her, and,turning, found the farmer's spring-cart hard on her heels. The farmerwas driving, and by his side sat a nice-looking girl dressed in theextreme of fashion. On the back seat was a young man in a very lightsuit, with a fine check pattern, and a new pair of brown leather shoes.The cart pulled up.
"We can make room for ye, Miss," said old Mr. Prime.
Nettie Wallace jumped tip and stood with her foot on the step. WilliePrime jumped down and effected her transfer to the back seat. Agathaclimbed up beside the farmer and stretched her hand back to greetWillie. Willie took it rather timidly. He did not quite 'savvy' (as heexpressed it to himself); his fiancee's friend was very simply attired,infinitely more sim
ply than Nettie herself. Nettie had told him thather friend was 'off and on'(a vague and rather obscure qualification ofthe statement) in the same line as herself--namely, Court andhigh-class dressmaking. Yet there was a difference between Nettie andher friend.
"Anybody else arrived by the train?" asked Agatha.
"A visitor for the Court. A good-looking gentleman, wasn't he, Willie?"
Nettie was an elegant creature and, but for the 'gentleman' and thatslight but ineradicable twang that clings like Nessus' shirt to thecockney, all effort and all education notwithstanding (it will evenlast three generations, and is audible, perhaps, now and then in theHouse of Lords), her speech was correct and even dainty in its primnicety.
"Ah!" said Agatha.
"His name's Sutton," said Willie; "Mr. Charles--young Mr.Merceron--told me so when he was talking to me on the platform."
"You know young Mr. Merceron?" asked Agatha.
"Why, they was boys together," interrupted the old farmer, who madelittle of the refinements of speech. In his youth no one, from the lordto the laborer, spoke grammar in the country. "Used to larn to swimtogether in the Pool, didn't you, Willie?"
"I must have a dip there to-morrow," cried Willie; and Agatha wonderedwhat time he would choose. "And I'll take you there, Nettie. Ever beenyet?"
"No. They--they say it's haunted, don't they, Willie?"
"That's nonsense," said Willie. London makes a man sceptical. The oldfarmer shook his head and grunted doubtfully. His mother had seen poorAgatha Merceron; this was before the farmer was born--a little whilebefore--and the shock had come nigh to being most serious to him. Thewhole countryside knew it.
"Why do you call it nonsense, Mr. Prime?" asked Agatha.
"Oh, I don't know, Miss---"
"Miss Brown, Willie," said Nettie.
"Miss Brown. Anyway, we needn't go the time the ghost comes."
"I should certainly avoid that," laughed Agatha.
"We'll go in the morning, Nettie, and I'll have my swim in the evening."
Agatha frowned. It would be particularly inconvenient if Willie Primetook his swim in the evening.
"Oh, don't, Willie," cried Nettie. "She--she might do you some harm."
Willie was hard to persuade. He was not above liking to appear adaredevil; and the discussion was still raging when they reached thefarm. The two girls went upstairs to the little rooms which theyoccupied. Agatha turned into hers, and Nettie Wallace followed her.
"Your Willie is very nice," said Agatha, sitting on her bed.
Nettie smiled with pleasure.
"And now that you've other company I shall go."
"You're going, Miss?"
"Not Miss."
Nettie laughed.
"I forget sometimes," she said.
"Well, you must remember just over tomorrow. I shall go next day. Imust meet my grandfather in London."
Nettie offered no opposition. On the contrary, she appeared ratherrelieved.
"Nettie, did you like Mr. Sutton's looks?" asked Agatha after a pause.
"He's too black and blue for my taste," answered Nettie.
Willie Prime was red and yellow.
"Blue? Oh: you mean his cheeks?"
"Yes. But he's a handsome gentleman all the same; and you should haveseen his luggage! Such a dressing-bag--cost fifty pounds, I daresay."
"Oh, dear, me," said Agatha, "Yes, Nettie, I shall go the day afterto-morrow."
"Mr. Merceron asked to be introduced to me," said Nettie proudly. "Andhe asked where you were--he said he'd seen you at the window."
"Did he?" said Agatha negligently; and Nettie, finding the conversationflag, retired to her own room.
Agatha sat a moment longer on the bed.
"What a very deceitful young man," she exclaimed at last. "I must be avery strict secret indeed. Well, I suppose I should be."
