"Yes," said Calvert to himself, "Florence is with me. She is my ally.
I"m sure of her."
"What spirits he has," said Miss Grainger, as she brought the sick girl her coffee. "I never saw him in a gayer mood. He"s bent on tormenting Loyd though, for he has just proposed a row on the lake, and that he should take one boat and Loyd the other, and have a race. He well knows who"ll win."
"That would be delightful, aunt Let us have it by all means. Mr.
Calvert, I engage _you_. You are to take _me_. Emily will go with Mr.
Loyd."
"And I"ll stand at the point and be the judge," said Miss Grainger.
Calvert never waited for more, but springing up, hastened down to the sh.o.r.e to prepare the boat He was soon followed by Miss Grainger, with Florence leaning on her arm and looking brighter and fairer than he thought he had ever seen her.
"Let us be off at once," whispered Calvert, "for I"d like a few hundred yards" practice--a sort of trial gallop--before I begin;" and, placing the sick girl tenderly in the stern, he pulled vigorously out into the lake. "What a glorious evening!" said he. "Is there anything in the world can equal one of these sunsets on an Italian lake, with all the tints of the high Alps blending softly on the calm water?"
She made no answer; and he went on enthusiastically about the scene, the hour, the stillness, and the n.o.ble sublimity of the gigantic mountains which arose around them.
Scarcely, however, had Calvert placed her in the boat, and pulled out vigorously from the sh.o.r.e, than he saw a marked change come over the girl"s face. All the laughing gaiety of a moment back was gone, and an expression of anxiety had taken its place.
"You are not ill?" asked he, eagerly.
"No. Why do you ask me?"
"I was afraid--I fancied you looked paler. You seem changed."
"So I am," said she, seriously. "Answer me what I shall ask, but tell me frankly."
"That I will; what is it?"
"You and Loyd have quarrelled--what was it about?"
"What a notion! Do you imagine that the silly quizzing that pa.s.ses, between young men implies a quarrel?"
"No matter what I fancy; tell me as candidly as you said you would. What was the subject of your disagreement?"
"How peremptory you are," said he laughing. "Are you aware that to give your orders in this fashion implies one of two things--a strong interest in me, or in my adversary?"
"Well, I accept the charge; now for the confession."
"Am I right, then, dearest Florence?" said he, ceasing to row, and leaning down to look the nearer at her. "Am I right, then, that your claim to this knowledge is the best and most indisputable?"
"Tell me what it is!" said she, and her pale face suddenly glowed with a deep flush.
"You guessed aright, Florence, we did quarrel; that is, we exchanged very angry words, though it is not very easy to say how the difference began, nor how far it went I was dissatisfied with him. I attributed to his influence, in some shape or other, that I stood less well here--in _your_ esteem, I mean--than formerly; and he somewhat cavalierly told me if there were a change I owed it to myself, that I took airs upon me, that I was haughty, presuming, and fifty other things of the same sort; and so, with an interchange of such courtesies, we grew at last to feel very warm, and finally reached that point where men--of the world, at least--understand discussion ceases, and something else succeeds."
"Well, go on," cried she, eagerly.
"All is told; there is no more to say. The lawyer did not see the thing, perhaps, in the same vulgar light that I did; he took his hat, and came over here. I followed him, and there"s the whole of it."
"I think he was wrong to comment upon your manner, if not done from a sense of friendship, and led on to it by some admission on your part."
"Of course he was; and I am charmed to hear you say so."
She was silent for some time, leaning her head on her hand, and appearing deep in thought.
"Now that I have made _my_ confession, will you let me have one of _yours?_" said he, in a low, soft voice.
"I"m not sure; what"s it to be about?"
"It"s about myself I want to question you."
"About yourself! Surely you could not have hit upon a sorrier adviser, or a less experienced counsellor than I am."
"I don"t want advice, Florence, I only want a fact; and from all I have seen of you, I believe you will deal fairly with me."
She nodded a.s.sent, and he went on:
"In a few weeks more I shall be obliged to return to India; to a land I dislike, and a service I detest: to live amongst companions distasteful to me, and amidst habits and a.s.sociations that, however endurable when I knew no better, are now become positively odious in my eyes. This is my road to rank, station, and honour. There is, however, another path; and if I relinquish this career, and give up all thought of ambition, I might remain in Europe--here, perhaps, on this very lake side--and lead a life of humble but unbroken happiness--one of those peaceful existences which poets dream of, but never realise, because it is no use in disparaging the cup of life till one has tasted and known its bitterness; and these men have not reached such experience--_I_ have."
He waited for her to speak--he looked eagerly at her for a word--but she was silent.
"The confession I want from you, Florence, is this: could you agree to share this life with me?"
She shook her head and muttered, but what he could not catch.
"It would be too dreary, too sad-coloured, you think?"
"No," said she, "not that."
"You fear, perhaps, that these schemes of isolation have never succeeded: that weariness will come when there are no longer new objects to suggest interest or employment?"
"Not that," said she, more faintly.
"Then the objection must be myself. Florence, is it that you would, not, that you could not, trust me with your happiness?"
"You ask for frankness, and you shall have it. I cannot except your offer. My heart is no longer mine to give."
"And this--this engagement, has been for some time back?" asked he, almost sternly.
"Yes, for some time," said she, faintly.
"Am I acquainted with the object of it? Perhaps I have no right to ask this. But there is a question I have full and perfect right to ask. How, consistently with such an engagement, have you encouraged the attentions I have paid you?"
"Attentions! and to me! Why, your attentions have been directed rather to my sister--at least, she always thought so--and even these we deemed the mere pa.s.sing flirtations of one who made no secret of saying that he regarded marriage as an intolerable slavery, or rather, the heavy price that one paid for the pleasure of courtship."
"Are the mere levities with which I amused an hour to be recorded against me as principles?"
"Only when such levities fitted into each other so accurately as to show plan and contrivance."
"It was Loyd said that. That speech was his. I"d lay my life on it."