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

spoke to her as he would have spoken to a small, frightened animal.
"It's all right. I'll pull out a bit, shall I? These things make such a beastly row."
She thanked him in an undertone, and he began to row steadily away from the yacht and the thronging boats.
"You tell me when I've gone far enough!" he said.
But she did not tell him, and he rowed on and on through the dark water with only the rhythmic splashing of the oars to fill the silence between them.
They left the laughter and the noise behind, and began to draw towards the far corner of the bay. The shore rose steeply from the water here, and there came to them the soft breaking of the waves against the cliff as they neared it.
Toby came out of her silence with a jerk. "Bunny, do you really think it would answer?"
"Sure!" said Bunny promptly.
He drew in his oars with the words, and they drifted on the summer tide.
Toby was looking at him in the starlight with a dumb and piteous irresolution in her eyes.
Bunny leaned to her as he sat, with outstretched hands. "You poor little frightened mouse!" he said. "What is it that's troubling you? Do you think I wouldn't make you happy?"
"I think you'd try," she said dubiously.
For a few seconds she hung back, hesitating; then swiftly, almost with the gesture of one who casts aside a burden, she threw out her trembling hands and thrust them into his. He took them and held them fast, drawing them gently to him till he had them against his heart. "I would try, sweetheart," he said softly.
"Would you?" whispered Toby. "Would you?"
She went nearer to him; he could feel her trembling from head to foot.
"You think I wouldn't succeed?" he asked her tenderly. "You think I'd make you sorry?"
"I don't know," she answered quiveringly. "I--I'm thinking most of you."
"Wondering whether it would be good for me to have my heart's desire?" jested Bunny softly. "Think it would be too much for me; what, darling?"
"No,--no!" said Toby. "Not that! Only wondering if you are wanting the right thing--wondering if the thing you call your heart's desire will bring you happiness. It--it doesn't always, you know, Bunny. Life is like that."
Her voice sank a little.
"What do you know about life?" he said.
She shook her head, her face downcast. "Oh, too much--too much!" she said.
Bunny sat motionless for a moment or two, but his hold was strong and comforting. At length very gently he began to draw her nearer.
He almost expected her to resist him, but she did not. As he drew her, she yielded, till with a sob she suffered herself to be drawn close into his arms. He had her on the thwart beside him, her face hidden against his shoulder. He laid his cheek down upon her hair and sat silent.
Toby was sobbing a little, and he patted her shoulder soothingly, but he did not speak until with a quivering sigh she relaxed against him and was still.
Then, in a whisper, "Toby mavourneen," he said, "I'm going to tell you something that's come to me lately--something I've guessed. You needn't answer me. I don't want you to answer me--only to know that I know. There's another fellow in your heart, and he's got a bigger place than I have--at present. No, don't tremble, darling! It's all right. I know--I know. He's the sort that women simply can't keep out. He's a fine chap too, and I'm fond of him--always have been. But look here, mavourneen, you're not going to break your precious little heart over him; you know quite well it's no use, don't you? You know--well, anyhow to a certain extent--you know what he is, don't you?"
He paused for an answer, but Toby quivered in his arms and was silent.
He put up a hand and pressed her head closer to his breast. "He'll never marry," he said. "He doesn't mean to. He almost told me so the other day. But--Toby--he takes a friendly interest in you and me. He'd like us to have each other. Don't you think"--his voice had a hint of humour--"don't you think we might fix it up just to please him? P'raps--someday--we may find that we're pleased ourselves as well."
"Oh, my dear!" Toby whispered.
Her arm crept round his neck, but she did not lift her head. He clasped her more closely and went on very softly. "I love you enough to think of your happiness first, my darling. You're not happy now. I know that all right. But you will be--I swear you shall be--if you will marry me. You like me just a bit, don't you? And you wouldn't be afraid to trust yourself to me?"
"No," murmured Toby, with an effort. "I wouldn't be--afraid."
"Then you'll give me my chance?" he urged gently. "You'll put your dear little hand into mine and trust me? Will you darling? Will you?"
But Toby was silent.
"Won't you?" he said in a whisper.
Her arm tightened about his neck. She was breathing quickly, nervously. From across the water came the sounds of laughter and cheering, the softened strains of the band that played on the deck of _The Blue Moon_. Close at hand was only the low wash of the waves as they lapped against the cliff. They floated quite alone over the dark depths, rising and falling with the slow heave of the tide, but making no headway.
"Won't you?" Bunny said again, after a long silence.
And suddenly Toby raised her head and spoke. "I will do--whatever you wish," she said.
There was a slight break in her voice, but it held no indecision. Her eyes looked straight into his in the starlight. He saw them shining and knew that they were big with tears. But she did not flinch from his look or start as his lips came to hers. She slipped her other arm about his neck and clasped him close.
"You'll be good to me, Bunny?" she said in a whisper.
And he answered her deeply, his lips against her own. "I will be good to you, my darling, so help me, God!"


CHAPTER VIII
THE MAGICIAN'S WAND

"I can't think where I have seen that girl before," said Sheila thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on the white rail, her soft eyes fixed upon the jewelled bay. "She has an arresting face."
"You have never seen her," said Saltash carelessly, flicking cigarette-ash overboard. "She has the sort of face that the old Italians worshipped and some of the moderns too. You have seen it in their pictures."
Sheila's brows were drawn. "I have seen her--somehow--dressed as a boy," she said. "Could it have been a picture?"
"Yes. One of Spentoli's. I've got a print somewhere. It's called, 'The Victim'--a lad with a face like Larpent's daughter, fighting a leopard."
Saltash spoke with easy conviction, his restless eyes flashing to and fro, often glancing but never resting upon the girl beside him. "That's what you're thinking of. It's an unsatisfactory sort of picture. One wonders which is 'The Victim.' But that is Spentoli all over. He always leaves one wondering."
"I know the thing you mean." Sheila nodded meditatively. "Yes, she is--rather like that. The boy was 'The Victim' of course." She turned towards him suddenly with the words. "You can't possibly doubt that. The brute's teeth are almost in his throat. I think it's a horrible picture myself."
Saltash laughed. "A deliverer arrives sometimes," he remarked, "even in the last, most awful moment of all. Have you never said to yourself how seldom the thing we really expect comes to pass?"
Sheila's lips parted with a touch of scorn. "Perhaps it is safer not to expect," she said.
"Perhaps," agreed Saltash, with his quick grimace. "I learnt that lesson a long time ago. There are so many slips--especially when the cup is full." He added inconsequently, "And even if it gets there, the wine is sour as often as not when you come to drink."
"I can quite believe it," said the girl, and looked out once more over the wreathing flowers to the rippling waters of the bay.
Her mouth took a firm line, and Saltash, glancing at her, began to laugh. "Do you know, Miss Melrose, it's rather curious, but you remind me of Spentoli too in some ways? I don't know if you and Miss Larpent possess the same characteristics, but I imagine you might develop them, given the same conditions."
Sheila stiffened at the words. "I am sure you are quite wrong," she said coldly. "Captain Larpent's daughter is quite obviously a child of impulse. I--am not."
"I think you would be impulsive enough to fight the leopard if he came your way," contended Saltash with idle insistence. "Or perhaps you would charm him. I imagine that might be more in your line."
Again the girl's lip curled. She said nothing for a moment, then deliberately, for the first time in her life, she snubbed him. "No, I should never try to charm--a beast, Lord Saltash."
"You prefer them savage?" countered Saltash.
She made a careless gesture with one hand, without replying. She did not even look towards him. "I think Miss Larpent might be quite clever in that respect," she said. "She is--a born charmer."
"By Jove!" he said. "What a cruel compliment!"
Sheila said nothing. She was watching a small boat rowing steadily towards them through the dark water, with eyes that were grave and fixed.
Saltash's look followed hers, and he grimaced to himself, oddly, wryly, as a man who accomplishes a task for which he has no liking. Then in a moment he turned the conversation. "Did you ever meet Rozelle Daubeni, the enchantress?"
Sheila's soft eyes came to him at the sudden question. "No. I have heard of her. I have never met her. I don't want to meet her. Why?"
He threw her a daring glance. "It would do you good to meet her. She is a born charmer if you like. She charms women as well as men--and beasts."
"An adventuress!" said Sheila.
"Yes, an adventuress. One of the most wonderful, I should say, who ever lived. She is in Paris just now. When she comes to England--" again his look dared her--"I will take you to see her. It will be--an education for you."
"Thank you," Sheila said.
He laughed aloud, and suddenly stretched his hand to her with a movement of good fellowship. "I'm only teasing. Don't be cross! I wouldn't take you to see her for all the gold of Ophir. She is rotten--too rotten even for me, which is saying much."
Sheila hesitated momentarily before she gave her hand.
"Why did you speak of her? What brought her to your mind?"
He glanced again towards the little boat now drawing near to the yacht, but he did not answer her question till her hand met his.
"I have--a somewhat elastic mind," he said then, and smiled his most baffling smile. "It was your talk of charmers that did it. I was trying to think of all I had met."
"All the Rozelles and the Tobies!" said Sheila, with a hard little laugh.
He gripped her hand and released it. "I have never met more than one of each," he said. "Which may be the secret of their charm. Don't class them together in your mind for a moment! Larpent's daughter may be a born charmer. Young Bunny Brian seems to think so at any rate. But she is not--and never will be--an adventuress."
"Is Bunny Brian fond of her--really fond of her?" asked Sheila.
Saltash nodded. "Sure thing--as Jake would say! And he's a sound chap too. I hope he'll get her."
"She is not very likely to refuse,"