The Rocks of Valpre by Ethel May Dell (best contemporary novels .txt) 📕

/> His hand was on her hair, the beautiful, burnished hair that Mademoiselle Gautier had deemed one of her most dangerous possessions. He did not try to see her face, and perhaps for that very reason Chris leaned against him with complete confidence.
"So you don't want to be married?" he said, after a moment.
"No, I don't!" she said, with vehemence. "I think marriage is dreadful--dreadful, when you come to look at it close." She moved her head under his hand; for an instant her face was raised. "Trevor, you don't mind my saying it, do you?"
"I want you to say exactly what is in your mind," he made grave reply.
"I knew you would." She nestled down again, and pulled his hand over her shoulder, holding it against her cheek. "I know I'm very unorthodox," she said. "Perhaps I'm wicked as well. I can't help it. I think marriage--except for good people like Hilda--is a mistake. It's so terribly cold-blooded and--and irrevocable."
She spoke the last words almost in a whisper. She was holding his hand very tightly.
He sat very still, and she wondered if he were shocked by her views, but she could not bring herself to ascertain. She went on quickly, with a touch of recklessness--
"It's only the good people like Hilda who can be quite sure they will never change their minds. In fact, I'm beginning to think that it's only the good people who never do. Trevor, what should you do if--if you were married to me, and then you--changed your mind?"
"I can't imagine the impossible, Chris," he said.
She moved restlessly. "Would it be quite impossible?"
"Quite."
"Even if you found out that I was--quite worthless?"
"That also is impossible," he said gravely.
She was silent for a space, then, "And what if I--changed mine?" she said, her voice very low.
"Have you changed your mind?" he asked.
She shrank at the question, quietly though it was uttered.
His hand closed very steadily upon hers. "Don't be afraid to tell me," he said. "I want the truth, you know, whatever it is."
"I know," she said, and suddenly she began to sob drearily, hopelessly, with her head against his knee.
He bent lower over her; he lifted her till he held her in his arms, pressed close against his heart.
"Yes, hold me!" she whispered, through her tears. "Hold me tight, Trevor! Don't let me go! I don't feel so--so frightened when you are holding me."
"Tell me what has frightened you," he said.
"I can't," she whispered back. "I'm just--foolish, that's all. And, Trevor, I can't--I can't--be married as Hilda was to-day. I can't face it--all the people and the grandeur and the flowers. You won't make me, Trevor?"
"My darling, no!" he said.
"It frightened me so," she said forlornly. "It seemed like being caught in a trap. One felt as if the guests and the flowers were meant to hide it all, but they didn't--they made it worse. I don't think Hilda felt like that, but then Hilda is so good, she wouldn't. Oh, Trevor dear, I wish--I wish we could go to Kellerton and live there without being married at all."
The words came muffled from his shoulder; she was clinging to him almost convulsively.
"But we can't, Chris," he said, his quiet voice coming through her agitation with a patience so immense that it seemed to dwarf even her distress. "At least, dear, you can go and live there if you wish, but I can't. Perhaps I am not indispensable."
"No, no!" she said quickly, as though the suggestion hurt her. "I want you."
"Then I am afraid you will have to marry me," he said. "We won't have a big wedding. It shall be as private as you like. I suppose you will want your brothers to be there."
"Why can't we run away together and get married all by ourselves?" suggested Chris. She raised her head and regarded him with sudden animation. "Wouldn't it be fun?" she said. "You could come for me in the motor, and we could fly off to some out-of-the-way village and be married before anyone knew anything about it. There would be no one to gloat over us and make silly jokes, no horrid show at all. Trevor," her face flashed into gaiety once more, "I'll go with you to-morrow!"
He smiled at her eagerness. "If I were to agree to that, you would run away in the night."
"Run away from you!" said Chris. She wound her arm swiftly about his neck. "As if I should!" she said reproachfully.
He looked at her, baffled in spite of his determination to understand. "You wouldn't want to do that, then?" he said.
She nestled to him with a gesture most winning. "Never, never, unless--"
"Unless--?" he repeated.
"Unless--for any reason--you were angry with me," she murmured, with her face hidden again.
He folded his arms more closely about her. "My little Chris, never be afraid of that," he said.
"Oh, but you might be," she protested.
"Never, Chris." He spoke gravely, with absolute conviction.
She turned her lips quickly to his. "Then let's run away together, shall we?"
He kissed her with great tenderness before he answered. "No, dear, no. It can't be done. What would your aunt say to it?"
"Surely if I don't mind that, you needn't!" she said.
But he shook his head. "I won't let you be pestered with preparations. We will keep it a secret from everyone outside. But I think we must let your Aunt Philippa into it. I think you owe her that."
"P'raps," admitted Chris, without enthusiasm. "But she is sure to want a big show, Trevor."
"Leave that to me," he said. "I promise you shall not have that. We will get it done early, and we will be at Kellerton for luncheon."
Her eyes shone. "How lovely! And the boys, too--and Bertie?"
He surveyed the eager face for a few seconds in silence. Then, "Chris," he said, "would it mean a very great sacrifice to you if I asked for the first fortnight with you alone?"
He was watching her closely, watching for the faintest suggestion of disappointment or hesitancy in the clear eyes, but he detected neither. Chris beamed upon him tranquilly.
"Why, I should love it! There's no end of things I want to show you. And we can make it all snug before Bertie and the boys come. But, of course"--she became suddenly serious--"I must have Cinders with me."
"Oh, we won't exclude Cinders," he said.
She laughed--the gay, sweet laugh he loved to hear. "That's settled, then. And you'll make Aunt Philippa promise not to tell, for of course that would spoil everything. Oh, and Trevor, you won't discuss Bertrand with her? Promise!"
He looked at her keenly for a moment, met only the coaxing confidence of her eyes, and decided to ask no question.
"My dear," he said, "as far as Bertrand is concerned, your Aunt Philippa and I have nothing to discuss."
"That's all right," said Chris, with relief. "Trevor, you've done me a lot of good. You are quite the most comforting man I know. I'm not frightened any more, and I'll never be such a little idiot again as long as I live."
She rose with the words, stood a moment with her hand on his shoulder, then stooped and shyly kissed his forehead.
"You always understand," she said. "And I love you for it. There!"
"I am glad, dear," he said gently.
But he did not look particularly elated notwithstanding. There had been moments in their recent conversation when, so far from understanding her, he had felt utterly and completely at a loss. He had not the heart to tell her so, for he knew that she was quite incapable of explaining herself; but the fact remained. And he wondered with a vague misgiving if he had yet succeeded--if, indeed, he ever would wholly succeed--in finding his way along the many intricate windings that led to her inmost heart.


CHAPTER XVI
MARRIED

It was certainly the quietest wedding of the season. People said that this was due to the bridegroom's well-known dislike of publicity; but, whatever the reason, the secret was well kept, and when Chris came out of the church on her husband's arm there was only Bertrand, standing uncovered by the carriage-door, to give her greeting.
She was smiling as she came, but it was rather a piteous smile. She had faced the ordeal with a desperate courage, but she had not found it easy. Only Trevor's steadfast strength had held her up. She had been conscious of his will acting upon hers throughout. With the utmost calmness he had quelled her agitation, had stilled the wild flutter of her nerves, had compelled her to a measure of composure. And now that it was over she felt that he was still in a fashion holding her back, controlling her, till she should have recovered her normal state of mind and be in a condition to control herself.
But the sight of Bertrand diverted her thoughts. Owing to her aunt's strenuous prohibition, she had not met him since the night of her birthday dance. She broke from Mordaunt to give him both her hands.
"Oh, Bertie," she cried, between tears and laughter, "it is good to see you again!"
He bent very low, so low that she only saw the top of his black head. "Permit me to offer my felicitations," he said, in a voice that was scarcely audible.
Her hands closed tightly for a second upon his. "You are pleased, Bertie?" she said, with a quickening of the breath.
He straightened himself instantly; he looked into her eyes. "But you are happy, yes?" he questioned.
"Of course," she told him hurriedly.
He smiled--the ready smile with which he had learned to mask his soul. "_Alors_, I am pleased," he said.
He helped her into the carriage, and turned, still smiling, to the man behind her. Yet he flinched ever so slightly from the grip of Mordaunt's hand. It was the merest gesture, scarcely perceptible; in a moment he had covered it with the quick courtesy of his race. But Mordaunt was aware of it, and for a single instant he wondered.
He took his place beside his bride, who tucked her hand inside his arm, with a little sob of sheer relief.
"Did I sound very squeaky, Trevor? I tried not to squeak."
He forgot Bertrand and everyone else but the trembling girl by his side. He laid a soothing hand on hers.
"My dear, you did splendidly. It wasn't so very terrifying, was it?"
"It was appalling," said Chris. "I kept saying to myself, 'Just a little longer and then that lovely new motor--my motor--and home.' You are going to give me my first lesson in driving to-day, aren't you? Say yes!"
He said "Yes," feeling that he was bestowing a reward for good behaviour.
She squeezed his arm. "And isn't it nice," she whispered, with shining eyes, "to feel that we are really going to stay there when we get there?"
He pressed the small, confiding hand. "You are glad, then, Chris?" he said.
"Oh, my dear, I should think I am!" she made answer. "I've been counting the days to the one when I shan't have to peck Aunt Philippa good-night. She never kisses properly and she won't let me. She says it's childish and unrestrained." She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder. "I've had no one to hug for ever so long--except Cinders," she said.
"Hasn't Cinders been enough?" he asked, with a hint of surprise.
She turned her face upwards quickly. "Trevor, you're not to laugh at me! It isn't fair."
He smiled a little. "I am not laughing, Chris, I assure you. I have always thought until this moment that Cinders was more precious to you than