Chapter XV: An Act of Indiscretion

WHEN we all met at breakfast the next morning there was a good deal of laughing and joking about the burglar, as we congratulated each other that he had not disturbed our rest. Agneta took no part in it. She feigned not to hear what was going on as she studied the envelopes of the letters which lay beside her plate; but I saw that her colour had risen, and felt sure that she was not so indifferent as she appeared.

There was another person at the table who took no part in the talk. Alan Faulkner was unusually grave that morning. Suddenly glancing up, I became aware that his eyes were upon me, studying me with an earnest, questioning glance I could not understand. My eyes fell beneath it and my colour rose. I fancied there was something reproachful in his look; but, as I had done nothing to deserve this, I tried to persuade myself that my imagination was wholly at fault. Yet the mere fancy had a lowering effect upon my spirits. It was with a sense of flatness and depression that I set about my daily duties.

Ere long Agneta claimed my attention. She had risen with a headache, which increased in violence as the day wore on. In vain she struggled against it with all the power of her strong will; she had to succumb at last, and spent the afternoon lying on her bed, while I kept applying cold bandages to her forehead. At last she said that she was better and felt inclined to sleep, so I darkened the room and left her.

When I went downstairs there was no one about. I passed into the garden and found that, too, deserted. As I walked round to the back of the house I wondered where the others were. Aunt Patty, I knew, had driven into Chelmsford to do some shopping, and I believed that Mr. Dicks had accompanied her. The Colonel probably was at the Vicarage. "Gay Bowers" wore the quiet, drowsy appearance that had marked it in the days when paying guests were unknown there.

Somewhat discontentedly I wandered down the long lawns, past the tennis nets and the croquet hoops, till I reached the part of the garden devoted to vegetables and fruit. To the right lay the strawberry bed, and, seeing some ripe berries, I paused to regale myself with them. I was wearing the check skirt I had worn on the previous day. It was foolish of me, but I liked it the better because Alan Faulkner had said a word in approval of It. It seemed that he was particularly fond of that admixture of black and white.

I lingered for some minutes by the strawberry bed, and was still hunting amid the green leaves when I saw a lad, who sometimes assisted Hobbes in the garden, coming towards me. Touching his cap awkwardly, he handed me a folded slip of paper, and as he did so I saw that a shilling lay in the palm of his hand.

"The gentleman told me to give you this, miss," he said.

"What gentleman?" I asked.

"Don't know," said the boy; "none of them as is here, miss."

I looked at the paper. It appeared to be a leaf torn from a pocket-book and folded with a corner turned down. There was no address on it. Turning from the boy's curious gaze, I strolled on, opening the missive as I went. I was amazed as I read the following words:

"My Darling, I have been waiting so impatiently in the wood and wondering what had kept you, till at last I was daring enough to approach the house, and from the one place where it is possible to look over the garden wall caught a glimpse of your frock, flitting to and fro amid the bushes. Dearest, why do you waste the time, when we might be together? I have got our plans laid now, and I must tell you about them. Let me assure you that the way is clear. There in not another soul about the place. Your puritanical cousin seems to have kindly taken herself off. I am tempted to scale the wall and join you where you are; but I dare not risk being caught again, as I was last night. I will tell you about it when we meet, so make haste and join me in the wood beyond the common."

"Your devoted"
"RALPH."

I read this extraordinary note in utter bewilderment until I came to the allusion to the "puritanical cousin," when the truth suddenly flashed on me. Why such an epithet was applied to myself I could not quite see, but I took it home, and leaped to the conclusion that the writer was Agneta's unworthy lover, who had mistaken me for her, owing to the fact of our dresses being similar. How he came to be in the neighbourhood I could not tell, but the idea that the supposed "burglar" was none other than he had struck me on the previous evening. I smiled to think how annoyed he would be, if he knew how his note had miscarried. Then I made a sudden resolve. He should know what had happened. I would go to the wood and confront him. I would tell him what I thought of his conduct, and warn him that if he continued to haunt the place I would let my aunt know of the discovery I had made. I was self-confident enough to believe that I could reason with him and persuade him to abandon a course of action which was so unworthy a true lover and gentleman.

I acted far too impulsively, as I learned to my sorrow. Waiting only to snatch my sailor hat from the peg in the back lobby where it hung, I hastened off to the common, and found my way into the wood at the nearest point to "Gay Bowers." It was the same wood, which ran down to the Wood End Oaks.

Scarcely had I reached the shadow of the trees ere I perceived the young man I came to meet. He was standing with his back to me, looking down the green glade which led to the road by which apparently he expected Agneta to come. No sooner did I see him than I experienced a sense of shame at my temerity. I might have abandoned my purpose and turned back, but the cracking of the twigs beneath my feet as I scrambled through the hedge had reached his ears. He swung round in a moment, and at the first glimpse of me a cry of delight escaped him; but the expression of his face changed almost instantly. Had I been less nervous I could have laughed at the unflattering look of annoyance which darkened his face when he perceived that I was not the one he expected.

"You did not expect to see me, Mr. Marshman," I said hastily in my embarrassment.

He lifted his hat with a grace that was Continental. I learned later that he had passed some years in a German school. He was of tall, lithe form, and bore himself with grace. His features were so handsome that I did not wonder at Agneta's infatuation, yet there was something in his face that repelled me.

"I beg your pardon," he said suavely in response to my greeting—"you have the advantage of me."

"I think not," I said. "I am Agneta's cousin—" it was with difficulty that I kept back the word "puritanical" which trembled on my tongue—"and I have come instead of her."

"Oh, really! Miss Darracott then, I presume." He lifted his hat again as he spoke. "May I ask why you have come?"

"I came to give you this," I said, holding out the slip of paper, "which I am sure you did not intend for me. You mistook my identity, I suppose."

He looked bewildered for a moment, then flushed as he took the paper.

"That being the case, you, of course, refrained from reading it, Miss Darracott?" he said in cool, quiet tones that had an edge of irony.

"Excuse me," I said, "you forget that your note bore no address. Your messenger told me that a gentleman had instructed him to give it to me. Not till I had read it could I know that it was meant for my cousin."

"Ah," he said, kicking savagely at a clump of nettles, "what an imbecile I was! But at least you must have known that there was a mistake."

"Oh, certainly," I stammered, growing scarlet as I remembered the tender epithet with which the note had begun.

"Then may I ask," he continued, "why you did not give it to your cousin when you found it was intended for her?"

"Because I prefer to return it to you," I said boldly, "and to ask you not to send such notes to Agneta, nor try to see her, when you know it is her parents' wish that you should not meet, and no good can come of such underhand ways."

"Agneta did not tell you to say that to me," he replied defiantly.

"She did not," I answered. "Agneta is far from well this afternoon, and she is lying down in her room at the present moment. She was quite otherwise occupied, as it happened, but this I could not know. I do not know how you come to be here," I added, "but I should advise you to leave this neighbourhood, and be content to wait till you can see Agneta with her parents' consent."

As I spoke I attempted to pass him, and go on my way; but, with an ironical laugh, he turned on his heel and walked beside me.

"Excuse my laughing, Miss Darracott; your words struck me as deliciously naive!" he said. "Don't you know that I might wait till doomsday before I should win that consent, since I have the misfortune to be poor, and the Redmaynes love money above all things—a characteristic that by no means renders them singular."

"You cannot be sure that their minds would not change," I said, "and I am sure it must be right for you to wait at present. It seems to me that you are bound in honour to seek no pledge from Agneta until she comes of age. You forget how young she is."

"Are you so much older, Miss Darracott?" he asked with a disagreeable smile, as he bent towards me, his dark eyes seeking mine with insolent raillery in their glance. "'Oh, wise young judge! How much more elder art thou than thy looks!'"

The blood rushed into my face. The sense of shame and humiliation which I experienced well-nigh brought the tears to my eyes. I saw how foolish it was of me to imagine that I could influence such a man as this.

He glanced away for a moment, then drew nearer to me with something so familiar and repulsive in his air that instinctively I shrank as far from him as the narrow path would permit. Without heeding the way I took, I had passed into the track that led to the stile giving access to the road. As I hastily moved away from Ralph Marshman, I was aware that Alan Faulkner stood on the other side of the stile, and was looking towards us with an indescribable expression on his face. I only saw him, and he was gone. Like a blow there fell on me the conviction that he had utterly misunderstood the state of affairs.

What could he think, indeed, on seeing me wandering along a secluded woodland path with this man beside me? How could I have been so mad as to place myself in such a position! For a moment I did not hear the words which Ralph Marshman was saying. Then he laughed in a way which made me turn my eyes on him. He was regarding me with a bold, amused glance that was in itself an insult. It seemed to me that he could read my thoughts, and knew the pain I was enduring.

"That is the learned and exemplary Professor Faulkner," he said in a mocking tone. "Do you think he was shocked to see us wandering in this wood alone? But if he is human at all he would understand—at least the apparent meaning of it, eh, Miss Darracott? He might not guess how recent is our acquaintance."

"Don't speak so, if you please!" I responded angrily. "You know I only came here to protest against the way in which you are acting! I warn you that I shall tell my aunt all that I know!"

"You don't mean that," he said with an impudent laugh. "You say it because you are angry. Well, I forgive your wrath since it is so becoming. But let me warn you that if you tell tales I can tell them too. I could tell a pretty story of how you opened another person's letter, and how you came uninvited to meet me in the wood. I advise you to keep your own counsel, Miss Darracott. Will you convey my regrets to Agneta, and tell her that, but for the pleasure of making your acquaintance, I should have been inconsolable when I heard of her indisposition? I fear we shall not meet again for a while, Miss Darracott, as I am about to leave this neighbourhood."

I made no reply as I hurried along the path and climbed the stile. I could feel that he watched me for a few moments, but when I looked back from the road I saw that he had turned in the opposite direction, and was pursuing the path that led towards Chelmsford. I hurried homewards, my cheeks burning, my pulses throbbing. I could hardly have felt much worse had I been guilty of the indiscretion which I believed Alan Faulkner had imputed to me.

"Gay Bowers" was close at hand when round a bend of the road I came suddenly upon Agneta. The colour flew into her face as she saw me. It was clear that her professed desire to sleep was merely a ruse to get rid of me, and she was now hurrying to keep her appointment with Ralph Marshman.

"It is too late, Agneta!" I said. "He is gone."

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously, and the flush faded from her face as quickly as it had risen, till she looked ready to drop. "Where have you been?"

"In the wood talking with Mr. Ralph Marshman," I replied. "And I wish enough I had never gone near him. He is a horrid man, Agneta!"

A scene ensued which was to the credit of neither of us. In my sore mortification I lost control of my temper, and said words that were better unsaid. I reproached my cousin with deceitful and even unmaidenly conduct. I told her that the man for whose sake she seemed ready to risk the priceless pearl of her good name was no gentleman, and that he was not worthy of a girl's respect, still less her love. I told her that although I had promised to say nothing to Aunt Patty about the love story she had confided to me, things had now come to such a pass that I felt I had a right to claim release from that promise. A higher obligation compelled me to inform aunt of what was going on, and I gave her warning that I meant to lay the whole matter before Aunt Patty at the earliest opportunity.

Agneta did not receive my rebukes with meekness. She reproached me in her turn with considerable bitterness. Very hard were the words she hurled at me. I was a prude, a mischief-maker, a Pharisee, and a sneak. The last epithet made me wince. I did so hate all meanness in word or deed, that the injustice of this last judgment stung me. But I held my ground in spite of it. The issue was too grave for me lightly to give way. I felt it as incumbent on me to save Agneta from herself as if I had seen her in a fit of madness about to throw herself over a precipice. When at last she saw that I would not yield, Agneta, wholly exhausted by her passionate outburst, sank on a bank by the roadside and began to cry. I felt very uneasy as I watched her. My attempts to soothe her met with little success.

"You are so unkind, Nan," she sobbed. "You want to make me miserable, and it is so horrid of you, just when I was looking forward to the garden party to-morrow. You might wait till that is over before you tell Mrs. Lucas. You will upset her as well as me, and spoil everything."

I was amazed to hear Agneta speak so. What a child she was, to be sure! How could I take her love trouble seriously, when I found her in the midst of her distress giving a thought to this garden party, to which we were all invited for the morrow? I knew that Aunt Patty was looking forward to going to the Canfields' entertainment accompanied by most of her paying guests; but I had no idea that Agneta was counting on it so much, although I knew she had bought a new hat for the occasion. While I mused on it, Agneta spoke again.

"Oh, do, Nan!" she said pleadingly, looking up at me with tears in her blue eyes. "Do promise me that you will say nothing to Mrs. Lucas till the party is over!"

For a moment I hesitated. Surely the delay could do no harm, since I believed that Ralph Marshman was leaving Chelmsford this evening. The sound of wheels on the quiet road decided me. I did not wish that any one should see my cousin crying there by the wayside.

"Very well," I said; "I promise on condition that you stop crying at once, and walk on like a reasonable being."

Agneta's face brightened instantly. She rose, and, slipping her hand within my arm, as though she felt the need of support, began to walk at a pace which soon brought us within the gate of "Gay Bowers."