"I don"t," said she.
"You do," said he.
"I do not," she said, and looked the other way.
"Then I"ll tell you." And he told her. "Em, I can keep silence no longer. I must tell your uncle all. And if he forbids me--"
"I don"t mind saying," she observed, taking advantage of the pause, "that I don"t care if he does."
"What do you mean?"
"John," she whispered.
"Call me Jack."
"No; it"s so undignified for a clergyman." Some people would call it undignified for a young woman to lay her hand on a clergyman"s shoulder. "What do I care if he says no? He never does say what he means the first time. I can just turn him round my finger. Whatever he said to you he would never dare to say no to me; at least, when I had done with him."
"Let us hope so," said Mr. Roland. "But whatever happens, I feel that I have already been too long silent."
"I don"t know," murmured Em, with a saintlike expression in her eyes.
"I rather like meeting you upon the sly."
Mr. Roland, as a curate and so on, perceived this to be a sentiment in which, under any circ.u.mstances, it was impossible for him to acquiesce--at least, verbally.
"No," he declared; "it must not be. This is a matter in which delay is almost worse than dangerous. I must go to him at once and tell him all."
Miss Maynard yielded. She was not disinclined to have their little mutual understanding publicly announced, if only to gratify Miss Gigsby and one or two other young ladies.
"Yes, Em," he continued, "I will go at once, and doubt will be ended."
They went together to the end of the lane, then she departed to do a few little errands in the town, and the Rev. John Roland went on his visit to Major Clifford.
CHAPTER III
THE LADY"S LOVER
The Major waited for his visitor--waited in a mood which, in spite of his promise to Miss Maynard, promised unpleasantness for Mr. Spooner.
Time pa.s.sed on, and he did not come. The Major paced up and down stairs, to and from the windows, and from room to room. Finally, he took a large meerschaum pipe from the mantelshelf in the smoking-room and smoked it in the drawing-room, a thing he would not have dared to do--very properly--if Miss Maynard had been at home.
"I promised young Trafford I"d go and see what I thought of that new gun of his," growled the Major, "and here"s that jackanapes keeping me in to listen to his insulting twaddle."
The Major probably forgot that at any rate the jackanapes in question had no appointment with him.
At last he threw open the window, and thrusting his head out, looked up and down the street to see if he could catch a glimpse of the expected Spooner.
"The fellow"s playing with me!" he told himself considerably above a whisper. "Like his confounded impudence!"
Suddenly he caught sight of a shovel hat and clerical garments turning the street corner, and re-entering the room with some loss of dignity, commenced reading the "Broad Arrow" upside down. Presently there was a knock at the street door, and a stranger was shown upstairs unannounced.
"I have called," he began.
The Major rose.
"I am perfectly aware why you have called," said he. "My niece is not at home."
"No," said the visitor. "I am aware--"
"But," continued the Major, who meant to carry the thing with a high hand, and give Mr. Spooner clearly to understand what his opinions were, "she has commissioned me to deal with the matter in her name."
The Rev. John Roland--for it was the Rev. John Roland--looked somewhat mystified. He failed to see the drift of the Major"s observation, and also did not fail to see that, for some reason, his reception was not exactly what he would have wished it to be.
"I regret," he began, with the Major standing bolt upright, glancing at him with an air of a martinet lecturing an unfortunate sub for neglect of duty, "that it is my painful duty--"
"Sir," said the Major, stiff as a poker, "you need regret nothing."
The Rev. John Roland looked at him. It was very kind of him to say so, but a little premature.
"I was about to say," he went on, feeling more awkward than he had intended to feel, "that owing to circ.u.mstances----"
"On which we need not enter," said the Major. "Quite so--quite so!"
He rose upon his toes, and sank back on his heels. Mr. Roland began to blush. He was not a particularly shy man, but under the circ.u.mstances the Major was trying.
"But I was about to remark that----"
"Sir," said the Major, shooting out his right hand towards Mr. Ronald in an unexpected manner, "once for all, sir, I say that I know all about it--once for all, sir! And the sooner we come to the point the better."
"Really," murmured Mr. Roland, "I am at a loss--"
"Then," cried the Major, suddenly flaring up in a way that was even startling, "let me tell you that I wonder you have the impertinence to say so. And I may further remark that the sooner you say what you have to say, and have done with it, the better for both sides."
Thereupon he went stamping up and down the room with heavy strides. Mr.
Roland was so taken aback, that for a moment he was inclined to think that the Major had been drinking.
"Major Clifford," he said, with an air of dignity which he fondly hoped would tell, "I came here to speak to you on a matter intimately connected with your niece"s future happiness."
"What the d.i.c.kens do you mean by your confounded impudence? Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that my niece"s happiness can be affected by your trumpery nonsense?"
"Sir," said Mr. Roland. "Major!"
There was no doubt about it, the Major must be intoxicated. It was painful to witness in a man of his years, but what could you expect from a person of his habits of life? He began to wish he had postponed his visit to another day.
"Don"t Major me! Don"t attempt any of your palavering with me! I"m not a fool, sir, and I am not an idiot, sir, and that"s plain, sir!"
"Major," he said--"Major Clifford, I will not tell you----"
"You will not tell me, sir! What the d.i.c.kens do you mean by you will not tell me? Do you mean to insult me in my own house, sir?"