CHAPTER XIV
A BIG THING
As the widowed rector's only daughter, Dot's occupations were many andvarious, and it was in consequence no difficult matter to be too deeplyengrossed in these occupations to have any time to spare for intercoursewith the rector's pupil.
Her brother had gone back to college, and there was therefore no excusefor the said pupil to linger when his studies were over, though heinvented many that would not have borne a very close investigation.
But his ingenuity was all to no purpose. Dot could be ingenious too, andshe evaded him so adroitly that at the end of a week he had abandonedhis efforts.
He went about with a certain sternness in those days, but it was not thesternness of the vanquished, rather the dogged patience of the man who isquite sure of ultimate success. Dot, peeping from the kitchen window tosee him ride away, marked this on more than one occasion andstrengthened her defences in consequence. She had not the remotestintention of seeing Bertie alone again for many a month, if ever. Hispersistence had scared her badly on that night at Baronmead. She washorribly afraid of what he might feel impelled to say to her, almostterrified at the bare notion of an explanation, and the prospect of apossible apology was unthinkable. It was easier for her to sacrifice hisgood comradeship, though that of itself was no easy matter, and she couldonly thrust her sense of loss into the background of her thoughts by themost strenuous efforts.
She was sturdily determined to make him relinquish their former pleasantintimacy before they should meet again. She was growing up, she toldherself severely, growing up fast; and intimacies of that sort werelikely to be misconstrued.
She took the counsel of none upon this difficult matter. Her father wastoo vague a dreamer to guide her, or so much as to realise that she stoodin need of guidance. And Dot had gone her own independent way all herlife. Her healthy young mind was not accustomed to grapple with problems,but she did not despair on that account. She only resolutely set herselfto cope with this one as best she might, erecting out of her multifariousduties a barrier calculated to dishearten the most hopeful knight.
But in thus constructing her defences there was one force with which sheomitted to reckon and against which she in consequence made nopreparation, a force which, nevertheless, was capable of shattering allher carefully-laid schemes at a touch.
As she emerged among the last of the congregation from the church on theSunday morning following her visit to Baronmead, she found Lucas Errolleaning upon the open lych-gate.
He greeted her with that shrewd, kindly smile of his before which it wasalmost impossible to feel embarrassed or constrained. Yet she blushedvividly at meeting him, and would gladly have turned the other way hadthe opportunity offered. For there in the road below, doing something tothe motor, was Bertie.
"It's a real pleasure to meet you again, Miss Waring," said Lucas, in hispleasant drawl. "I was just hoping you would come along. I met yourfather before the service, and he promised to show me his orchids."
"Oh!" said Dot, nervously avoiding a second glance in Bertie's direction."Won't you come across to the Rectory then and wait for him there?"
"May I?" said Lucas.
He straightened himself with an effort and transferred his weight to hiscrutch. Dot shyly proffered her arm.
"Let me!" said Bertie.
He was already on the steps, but Lucas waved him down, and accepted thegirl's help instead.
"We will go in the garden way," said Dot. "It's only just acrossthe road."
He halted terribly in the descent, and glancing at him in some anxietyshe saw that his lips were tightly closed. Overwhelming pity for the manovercame her awkwardness, and she spoke sharply over her shoulder.
"Bertie, come and take my place! You know what to do better than I do."
In an instant Bertie was beside her, had slipped his arm under hisbrother's shoulder, and taken his weight almost entirely off the crutch.His active young strength bore the great burden unfalteringly and withimmense tenderness, and there ran through Dot, watching from above, aqueer little indefinable thrill that made her heart beat suddenly faster.He certainly was a nice boy, as he himself had declared.
"That didn't hurt so badly, eh, old chap?" asked the cheery voice. "Comealong, Dot. You can give him a hand now while I fetch the car round.There are no steps to the Rectory, so he will be all right."
His airy friendliness banished the last of Dot's confusion. With a keensense of relief she obeyed him. Those few seconds of a common solicitudehad bridged the gulf at least temporarily.
"This is real good of you," Lucas Errol said, as he took her arm again."And it's a luxury I ought not to indulge in, for I can walk alone onthe flat."
"Oh, it is horrid for you!" she said with vehemence. "How ever doyou bear it?"
"We can all of us bear what we must," he said, smiling whimsically.
"But we don't all of us do it well," said Dot, as she opened theRectory gate.
"I guess that's a good deal a matter of temperament," said theAmerican. "A fellow like Nap, for instance, all hustle and quicksilver,might be expected to kick now and then. One makes allowances for afellow like that."
"I believe you make allowances for everyone," said Dot, impetuously.
"Don't you?" he asked.
"No, I am afraid I don't."
There was a pause. The garden door was closed behind them. Theystood alone.
Lucas Errol's eyes travelled over the stretch of lawn that lay betweenthem and the house, dwelt for a few thoughtful seconds upon nothing inparticular, and finally sought those of the girl at his side.
"One must be fair, Miss Waring," he said gently. "I can't imagine youbeing deliberately unfair to anyone."
She flushed again. There was something in his manner that she could notquite fathom, but it was something that she could not possibly resent.
"Not deliberately--of course," she said after a moment, as he waited foran answer.
"Of course not," he agreed, in his courteous, rather tired voice. "If,for instance, you were out with a friend and met a scorpion in a rage whostung you both, you'd want to take it out of the scorpion, wouldn't you,not the friend?"
She hesitated, seeing in a flash the trend of the conversation, andunwilling to commit herself too deeply.
He read her reluctance at a glance. "Please don't be afraid of me," hesaid, with that most winning smile of his. "I promise you on my honourthat whatever you say shall not be used against you."
She smiled involuntarily. "I am not afraid of you, only--"
"Only--" he said.
"I think there are a good many scorpions about," she told him ratherpiteously. "I could name several, all venomous."
"I understand," said Lucas Errol. He passed his hand within her arm againand pressed it gently. "And so you are flinging away all your valuablesto escape them?" he questioned. "Forgive me--is that wise?"
She did not answer.
He began to make his difficult progress towards the house.
Suddenly, without looking at her he spoke again. "I believe you're awoman of sense, Miss Waring, and you know as well as I do that there is aprice to pay for everything. And the biggest things command the highestprices. If we haven't the means to pay for a big thing when it isoffered us, we must just let it go. But if we have--well, I guess we'd bewise to sell out all the little things and secure it. Those same littlethings are so almighty small in comparison."
He ceased, but still Dot was silent. It was not the silence ofembarrassment, however. He had spoken too kindly for that.
He did not look at her till they were close to the house, then for a fewmoments she was aware of his steady eyes searching for the answer shehad withheld.
"Say, Miss Waring," he said, "you are not vexed any?"
She turned towards him instantly, her round face full of the most earnestfriendliness. "I--I think you're a brick, Mr. Errol," she said.
He shook his head. "Nothing so useful, I am afraid, but I'm grateful toyou all the sa
me for thinking so. Ah! Here comes your father."
The rector was hastening after them across the grass. He joined them onthe path before the house and urged his visitor to come in and rest. Theorchids were in the conservatory. He believed he had one very rarespecimen. If Mr. Errol would sit down in the drawing-room he would bringit for his inspection.
And so it came to pass that when Bertie entered he found his brother deepin a botanical discussion with the enthusiastic rector while Dot haddisappeared. Bertie only paused to ascertain this fact before he turnedround and went in quest of her.
He knew his way about the lower regions of the Rectory, and he began asystematic search forthwith. She was not, however, to be very readilyfound. He glanced into all the downstairs rooms without success. He was,in fact, on the point of regretfully abandoning his efforts on thesupposition that she had retreated to her own room when her voice rangsuddenly down the back stairs. She was calling agitatedly for help.
It was enough for Bertie. He tore up the stairs with lightning speed,boldly announcing his advent as he went.
He found her at the top of the house in an old cupboard used for storingfruit. She was mounted upon a crazy pair of steps that gave signs ofimminent collapse, and to save herself from the catastrophe that thiswould involve she was clinging to the highest shelf with both hands.
"Be quick!" she cried to him. "Be quick! I'm slipping every second!"
The words were hardly uttered before the steps gave a sudden loud crackand fell from beneath her with a crash. But in the same instant Bertiesprang in and caught her firmly round the knees. He proceeded with muchpresence of mind to seat her on his shoulder.
"That's all right. I've got you," he said cheerily. "None the worse, eh?What are you trying to do? May as well finish before you come down."
Dot seemed for a moment inclined to resent the support thus jauntilygiven, but against her will her sense of humour prevailed.
She uttered a muffled laugh. "I'm getting apples for dessert."
"All in your Sunday clothes!" commented Bertie. "That comes ofprocrastination--the fatal British defect."
"I hate people who hustle," remarked Dot, hoping that her hot cheeks werenot visible at that altitude.
"Meaning me?" said Bertie, settling himself for an argument.
"Oh, I suppose you can't help it," said Dot, filling her basket withfeverish speed. "You Americans are all much too greedy to wait foranything. Am I very heavy?"
"Not in the least," said Bertie. "I like being sat on now and then. Iadmit the charge of greed but not of impatience. You misjudge me there."
At this point a large apple dropped suddenly upon his upturned faceand, having struck him smartly between the eyes, fell with a thud tothe ground.
Bertie said "Damn!" but luckily for Dot he did not budge an inch.
"I beg your pardon," he added a moment later.
"What for?" said Dot.
"For swearing," he replied. "I forgot you didn't like it."
"Oh!" said Dot; and after a pause, "Then I beg yours."
"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked curiously.
"I want to get down, please," said Dot.
He lowered her from his shoulder to his arms with perfect ease, set heron the ground, and held her fast.
"Dot," he said, his voice sunk almost to a whisper, "if you're going tobe violent, I guess I shall be violent too."
"Let me go!" said Dot.
But still he held her. "Dot," he said again. "I won't hustle you any. Iswear I won't hustle you. But--my dear, you'll marry me some day.Isn't that so?"
Dot was silent. She was straining against his arms, and yet he held her,not fiercely, not passionately, but with a mastery the greater for itsvery coolness.
"I'll wait for you," he said. "I'll wait three years. I shall betwenty-five then, and you'll be twenty-one. But you'll marry me then,Dot. You'll have to marry me then."
"Have to!" flashed Dot.
"Yes, have to," he repeated coolly. "You are mine."
"I'm not, Bertie!" she declared indignantly. "How--how dare you hold meagainst my will? And you're upsetting the apples too. Bertie,you--you're a horrid cad!"
"Yes, I know," said Bertie, an odd note of soothing in his voice. "That'swhat you English people always do when you're beaten. You hurl insults,and go on fighting. But it's nothing but a waste of energy, and onlymakes the whipping the more thorough."
"You hateful American!" gasped Dot. "As if--as if--we could be beaten!"
She had struggled vainly for some seconds and was breathless. She turnedsuddenly in his arms and placed her hands against his shoulders, forcinghim from her. Bertie instantly changed his position, seized her wrists,drew them outward, drew them upward, drew them behind his neck.
"And yet you love me," he said. "You love yourself better, but--youlove me."
His face was bent to hers, he looked closely into her eyes. And--perhapsit was something in his look that moved her--perhaps it was only therealisation of her own utter impotence--Dot suddenly hid her face uponhis shoulder and began to cry.
His arms were about her in an instant. He held her against his heart.
"My dear, my dear, have I been a brute to you? I only wanted to make youunderstand. Say, Dot, don't cry, dear, don't cry!"
"I--I'm not!" sobbed Dot.
"Of course not," he agreed. "Anyone can see that. Butstill--darling--don't!"
Dot recovered herself with surprising rapidity. "Bertie, you--you're agreat big donkey!" She confronted him with wet, accusing eyes. "What yousaid just now wasn't true, and if--if you're a gentleman you'llapologise."
"I'll let you kick me all the way downstairs if you like," saidBertie contritely. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't meanto make you--"
"You didn't!" broke in Dot. "But you didn't tell the truth. That's whyI'm angry with you. You--told--a lie."
"I?" said Bertie.
He had taken his arms quite away from her now. He seemed in fact a littleafraid of touching her. But Dot showed no disposition to beat a retreat.They faced each other in the old apple cupboard, as if it were the mostappropriate place in the world for a conflict.
"Yes, you!" said Dot.
"What did I say?" asked Bertie, hastily casting back his thoughts.
She looked at him with eyes that seemed to grow more contemptuouslybright every instant. "You said," she spoke with immense deliberation,"that I loved myself best."
"Well?" said Bertie.
"Well," she said, and took up her basket as one on the point ofdeparture, "it wasn't true. There!"
"Dot!" His hand was on the basket too. He stopped her without touchingher. "Dot!" he said again.
Dot's eyes began to soften, a dimple showed suddenly near the corner ofher mouth. "You shouldn't tell lies, Bertie," she said.
And that was the last remark she made for several seconds, unless thesmothered protests that rose against Bertie's lips could be described assuch. They were certainly not emphatic enough to make any impression, andBertie treated them with the indifference they deserved.
Driving home, he managed to steer with one hand while he thrust the otherupon his brother's knee.
"Luke, old chap, I've gone dead against your wishes," he jerked out."And--for the first time in my life--I'm not sorry. She'll have me."
"I thought she would," said Lucas. He grasped the boy's hand closely."There are times when a man--if he is a man--must act for himself,eh, Bertie?"
Bertie laughed a little. "I don't believe it was against your wishesafter all."
"Well, p'r'aps not." There was a very kindly smile in the sunken eyes. "Iguess you're a little older than I thought you were, and anyway, shewon't marry you for the dollars."
"She certainly won't," said Bertie warmly. "But she's horribly afraid ofpeople saying so, since Nap--"
"Ah! Never mind Nap!"
"Well, it's made a difference," Bertie protested. "We are not going tomarry for three years. And no one is to know we are engaged except youand her f
ather."
"She doesn't mind me then?"
There was just a tinge of humour in the words, and Bertie looked athim sharply.
"What are you grinning at? No, of course she doesn't mind you. But what'sthe joke?"
"Look where you're going, dear fellow. It would be a real pity to breakyour neck at this stage."
Bertie turned his attention to his driving and was silent for a little.
Suddenly, "I have it!" he exclaimed. "You artful old fox! I believe youhad first word after all. I wondered that she gave in so easily. What didyou say to her?"
"That," said Lucas gently, "is a matter entirely between myself andone other."
Bertie broke into his gay boyish laugh and sounded the hooter for sheerlightness of heart.
"Oh, king, live for ever--and then some! You're just the finest fellow inthe world!"
"Open to question, I am afraid," said the millionaire with his quietsmile. "And as to living for ever--well, I guess it's a cute idea in themain, but under present conditions it's a notion that makes me tired."
"Who said anything about present conditions?" demanded Bertie, almostangrily; and then in an altered voice: "Old man, I didn't mean that, andyou know it. I only meant that you will always be wanted wherever youare. God doesn't turn out a good thing like you every day."
"Oh, shucks!" said Lucas Errol softly.