Charles Rex by Ethel May Dell (books to improve english .txt) 📕

he said with decision.
In the dimness his eyes looked into hers. A little shiver went through Toby. "I don't want to," she said again.
"Go on!" commanded Bunny, autocratically.
She turned suddenly and set her hands against his breast. "Well then, because I'm years and years older than you are--"
"Rot!" interjected Bunny.
"And--I'm not good enough for you!" finished Toby rather tremulously.
"Rats!" said Bunny.
"No, it isn't rats." She contradicted him rather piteously. "You've turned a silly game into deadly earnest, and you shouldn't--you shouldn't. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known. It's such a mistake--it's always such a great mistake--to do that. You say we can't go back to where we were before, but we can--we can. Let's try--anyway!"
"We can't," said Bunny with decision. "And there's no reason why we should. Look here! You don't want to marry anyone else, do you?"
"I don't want to marry at all," said Toby.
He laughed at that. "Darling, of course you'll marry. Come! You might as well have me first as last. You won't get any other fellow to suit you half as well. What? Say you'll have me! Come, you've got to. You don't hate me, do you?"
Again the pleading note was in his voice. She responded to it almost involuntarily. Her hands slipped upwards to his shoulders.
"But--I'm not good enough," she said again, catching back a sob.
His arms enfolded her, closely and tenderly. "Oh, skip that!" he said. "I won't listen."
"You--you--you're very silly," murmured Toby, with her head against his neck.
"No. I'm not. I'm very sensible. Look here, we're engaged now, aren't we?" said Bunny.
"No--no--we're not!" Her voice came muffled against his coat. "You're not to think of such a thing for ages and ages and ages."
"Oh, rot!" he said again with impatience. "I hate a waiting game--especially when there's nothing to wait for. You're not going to give me the go-by now."
His face was close to her again. She put her hand against his chin and softly pushed it away. "Bunny!" she said.
"Well, dear?" He stood, not yielding, but suffering her check.
"Bunny!" she said again, speaking with obvious effort. "I've got to say something. You must listen--just for a minute. Jake,--Jake won't want you to be engaged to me."
"What?" Bunny started a little, as one who suddenly remembers a thing forgotten. "Jake!" Then hotly. "What the devil has it got to do with Jake?"
"Stop!" said Toby. "Jake's quite right. He knows. He--he's older than you are. You--you--you'd better ask him."
"Ask Jake!" Bunny's wrath exploded. "I'm my own master. I can marry whom I like. What on earth should I ask Jake for?"
Toby uttered a little sigh. "You needn't if you don't want to. But if you're wise, you will. He understands. You wouldn't. You see, I've been to a lot of different schools, Bunny--foreign ones--and I've learnt a heap of--rather funny things. That's why I'm so much older than you are. That's why I don't want to get married--as most girls do. I never ought to marry. I know too much."
"But you'll marry me?" he said swiftly.
"I don't know," she said. "Not anyway yet. If--if you can stick to me for six months--I--p'raps I'll think about it. But I think you'll come to your senses long before then, Bunny." A desolate little note of humour sounded in her voice. "And if you do, you'll be so glad not to have to throw me over."
"You're talking rot," he interposed.
"No, I'm not. I'm talking sense--ordinary common sense. I wouldn't get engaged to any man on the strength of what happened to-night. You hadn't even thought of me in that way when we came up here."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Bunny. "Anyway, the mischief is done now. And you needn't be afraid I shall throw you over because--" an unexpected throb came into his voice--"I know now I've simply got to have you."
Toby sighed again. "But if--if I'm not worth waiting for, I'm not worth having," she said.
"But why wait?" argued Bunny.
"For a hundred reasons. You're not really in love with me for one thing." Toby spoke with conviction.
"Yes, I am." Stubbornly he contradicted her.
"No, you're not. Listen, Bunny! Love isn't just a passion-flower that blooms in a single night and then fades. You're too young really to understand, but I know--I know. Love is more like a vine. It takes a long while to ripen and come to perfection, and it has a lot to go through first."
Again a sense of strangeness came to Bunny. Surely this was a grown woman speaking! This was not the wild little creature he knew. But--perhaps it was from perversity--her warning only served to strengthen his determination.
"You can go on arguing till midnight," he said, "you won't convince me. But look here, if you don't want anyone to know, we'll keep it to ourselves for a little while. Will that satisfy you? We'll meet and have some jolly times together in private. Will that make you any happier?"
"We shan't be engaged?" questioned Toby.
"Not if you'll kiss me without," said Bunny generously.
"Oh, I don't mind kissing you--" she lifted her lips at once, "if it doesn't mean anything."
He stooped swiftly and met them with his own. His kiss was close and lingering, it held tenderness; and in a moment her arms crept round his neck and she clung to him as she returned it. He felt a sob run through her slight frame as he held her though she shed no tears and made no sound, and he was stirred to a deeper chivalry than he had ever known before.
"It does mean one thing, darling," he said softly. "It means that we love each other, doesn't it?"
She did not answer him for a moment; then: "It may mean that," she whispered back. "I don't know--very much about--love. No one ever--really--loved me before."
"I love you," he said. "I love you."
"Thank you," she murmured.
He held her still. "You'll never run away from me again? Promise!"
She shook her head promptly with a faint echo of the elfin laughter that had so maddened him a little earlier. "No, I won't promise. But I'll show you where I was hiding if you like. Shall I?"
"All right. Show me!" he said.
She freed herself from him with a little spring, and turned to the stone buttress against which he had found her. He followed her closely, half afraid of losing her again, but she did not attempt to elude him.
"See!" she said, with a funny little chuckle. "I found this ledge."
The ledge she indicated was on a level with the parapet and not more than six inches wide. It ran square with the buttress, which on the outer side dropped sheer to the terrace.
Bunny looked and turned sick. "You never went along there!" he said.
She laughed again. "Yes, I did. It's quite easy if you slide your feet. I'll show you."
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" He grabbed her fiercely. "What in heaven's name were you thinking of? How did you learn to do these things?"
She did not answer him. "I wanted to tease you," she said lightly. "And I did it too, didn't I? I pretended I was Andromeda when I got round the corner, but no Perseus came to save me. Only an angry dragon ramped about behind."
Bunny stared at her as if he thought her bewitched. "But you were over by that north wall once. I'll swear you were over there."
"Oh, don't swear!" she said demurely. "It's so wrong. I wasn't there really. I only sent my voice that way to frighten you."
"Good heavens!" gasped Bunny.
She laughed again with gay _insouciance_. "Haven't I given you a splendid evening's entertainment? Well, it's all over now, and the curtain's down. Let's go!"
She turned with her hand in his and led him back to the turret-door.
Reaching it, he sought to detain her. "You'll never do it again? Promise--promise!"
"I won't promise anything," she said lightly.
"Ah, but you must!" he insisted. "Toby, you might have killed yourself."
Her laugh suddenly had a mocking sound. "Oh, no! I shall never kill myself on Lord Saltash's premises," she said.
"Why do you say that?" questioned Bunny.
"Because--_que voulez-vous_?--he would want me neither dead nor alive," she made reckless answer.
"A good thing too!" declared Bunny stoutly.
The echoes of Toby's laughter as she went down the chill, dark stairway had an eerie quality that sent an odd shiver through his heart. Somehow it made him think of the unquiet spirit that was said to haunt the place--a spirit that wandered alone--always alone--in the utter desolation.


PART III


CHAPTER I
THE VIRTUOUS HERO

"How long is this absurd farce to go on?" said Larpent.
"Aren't you enjoying yourself?" grinned Saltash.
Larpent looked sardonic.
Saltash took up the whisky decanter. "My worthy buccaneer, you don't know when you're lucky. If I had a reputation like yours--" He broke off, still grinning. "Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk, is it? Let's spill some whisky instead! Say when!"
Larpent watched him, frowning. "Thanks! That's enough. I should like an answer to my question if you've no objection. How long is this practical joke going to last?"
Saltash turned and looked upon him with a calculating eye. "I really don't know what's troubling you," he remarked. "You've got everything in your favour. I'd change places with you with all the pleasure in the world if circumstances permitted."
"That isn't the point, is it?" said Larpent.
"No? What is the point?" Saltash turned again to the whisky decanter.
"Well, you've got me into a damn' hole, and I want to know how you're going to get me out again." Larpent's voice was gruff and surly; he stared into his tumbler without drinking.
Saltash chuckled to himself with mischievous amusement. "My dear chap, I can't get you out. That's just it. I want you to stay there."
Larpent muttered deeply and inarticulately, and began to drink.
Saltash turned round, glass in hand, and sat down on the edge of the high, cushioned fender. "I really don't think you are greatly to be pitied," he remarked lightly. "The child will soon be married and off your hands."
"Oh, that's the idea, is it?" said Larpent. "Who's going to marry her? Young Brian?"
"Don't you approve?" said Saltash.
"I don't think it'll come off," said Larpent with decision.
"Why not?" An odd light flickered in the younger man's eyes for an instant. "Are you going to refuse your consent?"
"I?" Larpent shrugged his shoulders. "Are you going to give yours?"
Saltash made an elaborate gesture. "I shall bestow my blessing with both hands."
Larpent looked at him fixedly for a few seconds. "You're a very wonderful man, my lord," he remarked drily at length.
Saltash laughed. "Have you only just discovered that?"
Larpent drained his tumbler gravely and put it down. "All the same, I don't believe it will come off," he said.
Saltash moved impatiently. "You always were an unbeliever. But anyone can see they were made for each other. Of course it will come off."
"You want it to come off?" asked Larpent.
"It is my intention that it shall," said Saltash royally.
"You're playing providence in the girl's interest. Is that it?" Again Larpent's eyes, shrewd and far-seeing, were fixed upon him. They held a glint of humour. "It's a tricky job, my lord. You'll wish you hadn't before you've done."
"Think so?" said Saltash.
"If you haven't begun to already," said Larpent.
Saltash looked down at him with a comical twist of the eyebrows. "You're very analytical to-night. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," said Larpent bluntly. "Except that you're making a mistake."
"Indeed?" For a moment