The morning had been misty, verging on frost, but the sun came out while
Val was jogging towards the Roehampton Gate, whence he would canter
on to the usual tryst. His spirits were rising rapidly. There had been
nothing so very terrible in the morning's proceedings beyond the general
disgrace of violated privacy. 'If we were engaged!' he thought, 'what
happens wouldn't matter.' He felt, indeed, like human society, which
kicks and clamours at the results of matrimony, and hastens to get
married. And he galloped over the winter-dried grass of Richmond Park,
fearing to be late. But again he was alone at the trysting spot, and
this second defection on the part of Holly upset him dreadfully. He
could not go back without seeing her to-day! Emerging from the Park, he
proceeded towards Robin Hill. He could not make up his mind for whom to
ask. Suppose her father were back, or her sister or brother were in!
He decided to gamble, and ask for them all first, so that if he were in
luck and they were not there, it would be quite natural in the end to
ask for Holly; while if any of them were in--an 'excuse for a ride' must
be his saving grace.
"Only Miss Holly is in, sir."
"Oh! thanks. Might I take my horse round to the stables? And would you
say--her cousin, Mr. Val Dartie."
When he returned she was in the hall, very flushed and shy. She led him
to the far end, and they sat down on a wide window-seat.
"I've been awfully anxious," said Val in a low voice. "What's the
matter?"
"Jolly knows about our riding."
"Is he in?"
"No; but I expect he will be soon."
"Then!" cried Val, and diving forward, he seized her hand. She tried to
withdraw it, failed, gave up the attempt, and looked at him wistfully.
"First of all," he said, "I want to tell you something about my family.
My Dad, you know, isn't altogether--I mean, he's left my mother and
they're trying to divorce him; so they've ordered him to come back, you
see. You'll see that in the paper to-morrow."
Her eyes deepened in colour and fearful interest; her hand squeezed his.
But the gambler in Val was roused now, and he hurried on:
"Of course there's nothing very much at present, but there will be, I
expect, before it's over; divorce suits are beastly, you know. I wanted
to tell you, because--because--you ought to know--if--" and he began
to stammer, gazing at her troubled eyes, "if--if you're going to be
a darling and love me, Holly. I love you--ever so; and I want to be
engaged." He had done it in a manner so inadequate that he could have
punched his own head; and dropping on his knees, he tried to get nearer
to that soft, troubled face. "You do love me--don't you? If you don't
I...." There was a moment of silence and suspense, so awful that he
could hear the sound of a mowing-machine far out on the lawn pretending
there was grass to cut. Then she swayed forward; her free hand touched
his hair, and he gasped: "Oh, Holly!"