"Not in bicycling," he answered, his eyes set ardently on her face.
She was sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, which had been stripped of its bark and shaped into a primitive bench. He sat down by her and took her hand.
"Your hand shakes! What"s the matter? You"re not afraid of me?"
"Not of you--no, not of you, Harry."
"Of something then? Is it of something I might do--or say?" He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
It was no use trying to get answers out of her; she was past that; but she did not turn away from him, she let her eyes meet his in a silent appeal.
"Vivien, I love you more than all my life!"
"You--you can"t," he could just hear her murmur, her lips scarcely parted.
"More than everything in the world besides!"
What wonderful words they were. "More than everything in the world besides!" "More than all my life!" Could there be such words? Could she have heard--and Harry uttered them? Her hands trembled violently in his; she was sore afraid amidst bewildering joy. Anything she had foreshadowed in her dreams seemed now so faint, so poor, against marvellous reality. Surely the echo of the wonderful words would be in her ears for all her life!
She had none wherewith to answer them; her hands were his already; for the tears in her eyes she could hardly see his face, but she turned her lips up to his in mute consent.
"That makes you mine," said Harry, "and me yours--yours only--for ever."
She released her hands from his, and put her arm under his arm. Still she said nothing, but now she smiled beneath her dim eyes, and pressed his arm.
"Not frightened now?" he asked softly. "You need never be frightened again."
She spoke at last just to say "No" very softly, yet with a wealth of confident happiness.
"The things we"ll do, the things we"ll see, the times we"ll have!" cried Harry gaily. "And to think that it"s only a month or two ago that the idea occurred to me!" He teased her. "Occurred to us, Vivien?"
"Oh no, Harry. Well, then, yes." She laughed lightly, pressing his arm again. "But never that it could be like this."
"Is this--nice?" he asked in banter.
"Is it--real?" she whispered.
"Yes, it"s real and it"s nice--real nice, in fact,"
laughed Harry.
"Don"t talk just for a little while," she begged, and he humoured her, watching her delicate face during the silence she entreated. "You must tell them," she said suddenly, with a return of her alarm.
"Oh yes, I"ll do all the hard work," he promised her, smiling.
She fell into silence again, the wonderful words re-echoing in her ears--"More than everything in the world besides!" "More than all my life!"
"I promised Miss Vintry we"d be back to tea. Do you think you can face her?" asked Harry.
"Yes, with you. But you"ve got to tell. You promised."
"You"ll have somebody to help you over all the stiles--now and hereafter."
The suggestion brought a radiant smile of happiness to her lips; it expressed to her the transformation of her life. So many things had been stiles to her, and her father"s gospel was that people must get over their own stiles for themselves; that was the lesson he inculcated, with Isobel Vintry to help him. But now--well, if stiles were still possible things at all, with Harry to help her over they lost all their terrors.
"We"ll remember this old tree-trunk. In fact I think that the proper thing is to carve our initials on it--two hearts and our initials.
That"s real keeping company!"
"Oh no," she protested with a merry little laugh. "Keeping company!
Harry!"
"Well, I"ll let you off the hearts, but I must have the initials--very, very small. Do let me have the initials!"
"Somewhere where n.o.body will look, n.o.body be likely to see them!"
"Oh yes; I"ll find a very secret place! And once a year--on the anniversary, if we"re here--we"ll come and freshen them up with a penknife."
He had his out now, and set about his pleasant silly task, choosing one end of the tree-trunk, near to the ground, where, in fact, n.o.body who was not in the secret would find the record.
"There you are--a beautiful monogram; "H" and "V" intertwined. I"m proud of that!"
"So am I--very proud, Harry!" she said softly, taking his arm as they moved away. Was she not blessed among the daughters of women? To say nothing of being the envy of all Meriton!
And for Harry the past was all over, the dead had buried its dead. The new life--and the life of the new man--had begun.
Wellgood was back from a ride round his farms--a weekly observance with him. He had been grimly encouraging the good husbandmen, badly scaring the inefficient, advising them all to keep their labourers in order, and their womankind as near to reason as could be hoped for. Now he had his hour of relaxation over tea. He was a great tea-drinker--four or five cups made his allowance. Tea is often the libertinism of people otherwise severe. He leant back in his garden-chair, his gaitered legs outstretched, and drank his tea, Isobel Vintry replenishing the swiftly-emptied cup. She performed the office absent-mindedly--with an air of detachment which hinted that she would fulfil her duties, routine though they might be, but must not be expected to think about them.
"Where"s Vivien?" he asked abruptly.
"In the west wood--with Mr. Harry. He said they"d be back for tea."
"Oh!" He finished his third cup and handed the vessel over to her to be refilled. "Things getting on?"
"Yes, I think so. Here"s your tea."
"Why do you think so? Give me another lump of sugar."
"Sugar at that rate"ll make you put on too much weight. Well, I gave him a hint that the pear was ripe."
"You did? Well, I"m hanged!"
"You think I"m very impudent?"
"What did you say? But I daresay you said nothing. You"ve a trick with those eyes of yours, Isobel."
"I"ve devoted them solely to supervising your daughter"s education, Mr.
Wellgood."
"Oh yes!" he chuckled. He liked impudence from a woman; to primitive man--Wellgood had a good leaven of the primitive--it is an agreeable provocation.