"Is that the truth?" says Gower. He seats himself suddenly upon the seat opposite to her, and with a countenance not one whit the less draped in gloom, pulls from his pocket a cheque-book, a pen, and a tiny little ink case.
"I hardly know if there is yet time," says he, "but if you will sign this, I shall do my best to get back to a life that is apparently dear to you, though not"--mournfully--"to me."
Miss Gower takes the pen, plunges it into the ink, and writes her name. It is not until to-morrow that she remembers that the cheque was drawn out in every way, except for her signature.
"Ah, we may yet reach the sh.o.r.e alive!" says Mr. Gower, in a depressing tone, putting in the plug.
When they reach it, he gives his arm to his aunt, and, in the tenderest fashion, helps her along the short pathway that leads to the house.
In the hall quite a large number of people are a.s.sembled, and everyone runs toward them.
"Why, we thought you were lost," says Mrs. Chichester.
"Yes, so we were very nearly," says Mr. Gower, shaking his head and advancing into the hall with the languid airs of one who has just undergone a strange experience.
"But how--how?" They all crowd round him now.
"Poor aunt and I were nearly drowned," says Mr. Gower pathetically.
He takes a step forward, and the water drips from his trousers. He looks back at Miss Gower. "Weren"t we?" says he.
"But you are dripping!" cries t.i.ta, "whilst Miss Gower seems quite dry. Dear Miss Gower," turning anxiously to that spinster, "I hope you are not wet."
"Ah! she was so nice, so _nice,"_ says Randal sweetly, "that she wouldn"t let me do much for her. But if you will just look under her petticoats I am afraid you will----"
"Randal!" cries Miss Gower indignantly.
After this the spinster is hurried upstairs by many willing hands and is put to bed. t.i.ta, on her way down from seeing her made comfortable, meets Randal redressed and dry and comfortable in the library.
"What does all this mean?" says she. "When you spoke this morning of taking Miss Gower out on the lake I--I did not suspect you of anything--but now----"
"Well, now, you shall hear the truth," says Gower. Whereupon he gives her a graphic account of the scene on the lake.
"I knew she"d take _that_ fence," says he. "And I was right; there wasn"t even a jib."
"I wonder you aren"t ashamed of yourself," says t.i.ta indignantly.
"Don"t wonder any more. I _am_ ashamed of myself. I"m so ashamed that I"m going at once to pay my debts."
"Oh, I like that!"
"Well, I am. I shall give my landlady five pounds out of her account."
"And the account?"
"I really think it must be about seventy or eighty by this time,"
says Mr. Gower thoughtfully. "However, it doesn"t matter about that.
She"ll be awfully pleased to get the five pounds. One likes five pounds, you know, when one has lost all hope of ever getting it."
"Oh, go away!" says t.i.ta. "You are a _horrid_ boy!"
CHAPTER VI.
HOW ALL THE HOUSE PARTY AT OAKDEAN GROW FRIVOLOUS IN THE ABSENCE OF THE LORD AND MASTER; AND HOW MRS. BETHUNE ENCOURAGES A GAME OF HIDE-AND-SEEK; AND HOW, AFTER MANY ESCAPES, t.i.tA IS CAUGHT AT LAST.
"She has gone to bed," says t.i.ta, reappearing in the drawing-room just as the clock strikes nine on the following evening.
"Thank goodness!" says Mrs. Chichester, _sotto voce_, at which Captain Marryatt laughs.
"She is not very ill, I hope?" says Margaret.
"Oh no! A mere headache."
"Bile!" suggests Mr. Gower prettily.
t.i.ta looks angrily at him.
"What a hideous word that is!" says Mrs. Bethune, with a sneer. "It ought to be expunged from every decent dictionary. Fortunately,"
with a rather insolent glance at Randal, who is so openly a friend of t.i.ta"s, "very few people use it--in civilized society."
"And I"m one of them," says the young man, with deep self-gratulation. "I like to be in a minority--so choice, you know; so distinguished! But what, really," turning to t.i.ta, "is the matter with poor, dear old auntie?"
"A chill, I should think," returns t.i.ta severely. Has he forgotten all about yesterday"s escapade? "She seemed to me very wet when she got home last evening."
"She was soaking," says Mr. Gower. "She didn"t show it much, because when the water was rising in that wretched old boat--really, you know, Maurice ought to put respectable boats on his lake--she pulled up her----"
"Randal!"
"Well, she did!" says Randal, unabashed. "Don"t glare at _me!_ I didn"t pull up anything! I"d nothing to pull up, but she----" Here Mr. Gower gives way to wild mirth. "Oh, if you"d _seen_ her!" says he--"such spindleshanks!"
At this Marryatt gets behind him, draws a silken chair-back over his face, thus mercifully putting an end to his spoken recollections.
"If I were you, t.i.ta, I should order Randal off to bed," says Margaret, who, I regret to say, is laughing. "He has been up quite long enough for a child of his years."
"Well--but, really, what is the matter with Miss Gower?" asks somebody.
"Temper," puts in Mrs. Bethune, with a shrug.
She is leaning back in an easy-chair, feeling and looking distinctly vexed. Maurice is away. This morning he had started for town to meet his mother, and bring her back with him for a short stay at Oakdean.
He had gone away directly after breakfast, telling them all he would be home by the evening if possible; but he feared the journey would be too long for his mother, and that probably she would spend the night in town. In the meantime, if anything in the shape of a murder or an elopement should occur, they might telegraph to Claridge"s. He had then turned and smiled at t.i.ta.
"I leave them all in your care," he had said.
Was there meaning in his smile--was it a little entreaty to her to be "good" during his absence?