"Because I"m boring you to madness, little by little, and I"m awfully sorry too, for I want you to like me--though you say you never will--and of course you can"t like a bore, can you? I say, Miss Bowring, don"t you think we could strike some sort of friendly agreement--to be friends without "liking," somehow? I"m beginning to hate the word. I believe it"s the colour of my hair or my coat--or something--that you dislike so. I wish you"d tell me. It would be much kinder. I"d go to work and change it--"
"Dye your hair?" Clare laughed, glad that the ice was broken again.
"Oh yes--if you like," he answered, laughing too. "Anything to please you."
"Anything "in reason"--as you proposed yesterday."
"No--anything in reason or out of it. I"m getting desperate!" He laughed again, but in his laughter there was a little note of something new to the young girl, a sort of understreak of earnestness.
"It isn"t anything you can change," said Clare, after a moment"s hesitation. "And it certainly has nothing to do with your appearance, or your manners, or your tailor," she added.
"Oh well, then, it"s evidently something I"ve done, or said," Brook murmured, looking at her.
But she did not return his glance, as they walked side by side; indeed, she turned her face from him a little, and she said nothing, for she was far too truthful to deny his a.s.sertion.
"Then I"m right," he said, with an interrogation, after a long pause.
"Don"t ask me, please! It"s of no importance after all. Talk of something else."
"I don"t agree with you," Brook answered. "It is very important to me."
"Oh, nonsense!" Clare tried to laugh. "What difference can it make to you, whether I like you or not?"
"Don"t say that. It makes a great difference--more than I thought it could, in fact. One--one doesn"t like to be misjudged by one"s friends, you know."
"But I"m not your friend."
"I want you to be."
"I can"t."
"You won"t," said Brook, in a lower tone, and almost angrily. "You"ve made up your mind against me, on account of something you"ve guessed at, and you won"t tell me what it is, so I can"t possibly defend myself.
I haven"t the least idea what it can be. I never did anything particularly bad, I believe, and I never did anything I should be ashamed of owning. I don"t like to say that sort of thing, you know, about myself, but you drive me to it. It isn"t fair. Upon my word, it"s not fair play. You tell a man he"s a bad lot, like that, in the air, and then you refuse to say why you think so. Or else the whole thing is a sort of joke you"ve invented--if it is, it"s awfully one-sided, it seems to me."
"Do you really think me capable of anything so silly?" asked Clare.
"No, I don"t. That makes it all the worse, because it proves that you have--or think you have--something against me. I don"t know much about law, but it strikes me as something tremendously like libel. Don"t you think so yourself?"
"Oh no! Indeed I don"t. Libel means saying things against people, doesn"t it? I haven"t done that--"
"Indeed you have! I mean, I beg your pardon for contradicting you like that--"
"Rather flatly," observed Clare, as they turned in their walk, and their eyes met.
"Well, I"m sorry, but since we are talking about it, I"ve got to say what I think. After all, I"m the person attacked. I have a right to defend myself."
"I haven"t attacked you," answered the young girl, gravely.
"I won"t be rude, if I can help it," said Brook, half roughly. "But I asked you if you disliked me for something I had done or said, and you couldn"t deny it. That means that I have done or said something bad enough to make you say that you will never be my friend--and that must be something very bad indeed."
"Then you think I"m not squeamish? It would have to be something very, very bad."
"Yes."
"Thank you. Well, I thought it very bad. Anybody would, I should fancy."
"I never did anything very, very bad, so you must be mistaken," answered Johnstone, exasperated.
Clare said nothing, but walked along with her head rather high, looking straight before her. It had all happened before her eyes, on the very ground under her feet, on that platform. Johnstone knew that he had spoken roughly.
"I say," he began, "was I rude? I"m awfully sorry." Clare stopped and stood still.
"Mr. Johnstone, we sha"n"t agree. I will never tell you, and you will never be satisfied unless I do. So it"s a dead-lock."
"You are horribly unjust," answered Brook, very much in earnest, and fixing his bright eyes on hers. "You seem to take a delight in tormenting me with this imaginary secret. After all, if it"s something you saw me do, or heard me say, I must know of it and remember it, so there"s no earthly reason why we shouldn"t discuss it."
There was again that fascination in his eyes, and she felt herself yielding.
"I"ll say one thing," she said. "I wish you hadn"t done it!"
She felt that she could not look away from him, and that he was getting her into his power. The colour rose in her face.
"Please don"t look at me!" she said suddenly, gazing helplessly into his eyes, but his steady look did not change.
"Please--oh, please look away!" she cried, half-frightened and growing pale again.
He turned from her, surprised at her manner.
"I"m afraid you"re not in earnest about this, after all," he said, thoughtfully. "If you meant what you said, why shouldn"t you look at me?"
She blushed scarlet again.
"It"s very rude to stare like that!" she said, in an offended tone.
"You know that you"ve got something--I don"t know what to call it--one can"t look away when you look at one. Of course you know it, and you ought not to do it. It isn"t nice."
"I didn"t know there was anything peculiar about my eyes," said Brook.
"Indeed I didn"t! n.o.body ever told me so, I"m sure. By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I believe it"s that! I"ve probably done it before--and that"s why you--" he stopped.
"Please don"t think me so silly," answered Clare, recovering her composure. "It"s nothing of the sort. As for that--that way you have of looking--I dare say I"m nervous since my illness. Besides--" she hesitated, and then smiled. "Besides, do you know? If you had looked at me a moment longer I should have told you the whole thing, and then we should both have been sorry."
"I should not, I"m sure," said Brook, with conviction. "But I don"t understand about my looking at you. I never tried to mesmerise any one--"
"There is no such thing as mesmerism. It"s all hypnotism, you know."
"I don"t know what they call it. You know what I mean. But I"m sure it"s your imagination."
"Oh yes, I dare say," answered the young girl with affected carelessness. "It"s merely because I"m nervous."
"Well, so far as I"m concerned, it"s quite unconscious. I don"t know--I suppose I wanted to see in your eyes what you were thinking about.