She thrust the blossom against his face; Jon agreed giddily that of all
things in the world caution was the worst, and bending over, kissed the
hand which held his.
"That's nice and old-fashioned," said Fleur calmly. "You're frightfully
silent, Jon. Still I like silence when it's swift." She let go his hand.
"Did you think I dropped my handkerchief on purpose?"
"No!" cried Jon, intensely shocked.
"Well, I did, of course. Let's get back, or they'll think we're doing
this on purpose too." And again she ran like a ghost among the trees.
Jon followed, with love in his heart, Spring in his heart, and over all
the moonlit white unearthly blossom. They came out where they had gone
in, Fleur walking demurely.
"It's quite wonderful in there," she said dreamily to Holly.
Jon preserved silence, hoping against hope that she might be thinking it
swift.
She bade him a casual and demure good-night, which made him think he had
been dreaming....
In her bedroom Fleur had flung off her gown, and, wrapped in a shapeless
garment, with the white flower still in her hair, she looked like a
mousme, sitting cross-legged on her bed, writing by candlelight.
"DEAREST CHERRY,
"I believe I'm in love. I've got it in the neck, only the feeling is
really lower down. He's a second cousin-such a child, about six months
older and ten years younger than I am. Boys always fall in love with
their seniors, and girls with their juniors or with old men of forty.
Don't laugh, but his eyes are the truest things I ever saw; and he's
quite divinely silent! We had a most romantic first meeting in London
under the Vospovitch Juno. And now he's sleeping in the next room and
the moonlight's on the blossom; and to-morrow morning, before anybody's
awake, we're going to walk off into Down fairyland. There's a feud
between our families, which makes it really exciting. Yes! and I may
have to use subterfuge and come on you for invitations--if so, you'll
know why! My father doesn't want us to know each other, but I can't help
that. Life's too short. He's got the most beautiful mother, with lovely
silvery hair and a young face with dark eyes. I'm staying with his
sister--who married my cousin; it's all mixed up, but I mean to pump
her to-morrow. We've often talked about love being a spoil-sport; well,
that's all tosh, it's the beginning of sport, and the sooner you feel
it, my dear, the better for you.
"Jon (not simplified spelling, but short for Jolyon, which is a name in
my family, they say) is the sort that lights up and goes out; about five
feet ten, still growing, and I believe he's going to be a poet. If
you laugh at me I've done with you forever. I perceive all sorts of
difficulties, but you know when I really want a thing I get it. One of
the chief effects of love is that you see the air sort of inhabited,
like seeing a face in the moon; and you feel--you feel dancey and soft
at the same time, with a funny sensation--like a continual first sniff
of orange--blossom--Just above your stays. This is my first, and I feel
as if it were going to be my last, which is absurd, of course, by all
the laws of Nature and morality. If you mock me I will smite you, and
if you tell anybody I will never forgive you. So much so, that I almost
don't think I'll send this letter. Anyway, I'll sleep over it. So
good-night, my Cherry--oh!