"I, vain? Oh!"
"You are, aren"t you?"
"I--well, I"m afraid I am, a little."
"You could never have looked in the gla.s.s if you weren"t. Didn"t you see, or guess, that I was talking about an Ideal whom I had conjured into being, as a desirable companion in that garden? I can"t understand from the way the conversation ran, how you could have helped it. When I first went to the battlement garden I was several years younger, steeped with the spirit of Provence and full of thoughts of Nicolete. I was just sentimental enough to imagine that such a girl as Nicolete was with me there, and always afterward I a.s.sociated the vision of the Ideal with that garden. I said to myself, that I should like to come there again with that Ideal in the flesh. And then--then I did come again--with you."
"But you said--you thought of her always--that because you couldn"t have her--or something of the sort--"
"Well, all that was no surprise to you, was it? You must have known perfectly well--ever since that night at Avignon when you let your hair down, anyhow, if not before, that I was trying desperately hard not to be an idiot about you--and not exactly radiant with joy in the thought that whoever the man was who would get you, it couldn"t be I?"
"O-oh!" I breathed a long, heavenly breath, that seemed to let all the sorrows and worries pour out of my heart, as the air rushed out of my lungs. "O-oh, you _can"t_ mean, truly and really, that you"re in love with Me, can you?"
"Surely it isn"t news to you."
"I should think it was!" I exclaimed, rapturously. "Oh, I"m so happy!"
"Another scalp--though a humble one?"
"Don"t be a beast. I"m so horribly in love with you, you know. It"s been hurting so _dreadfully_."
Then I rather think he said "My darling!" but I"m not quite sure, for I was so busy falling into his arms, and he was holding me so very, very tightly.
We stayed like that for a long time, not saying anything, and not even thinking, but feeling--feeling. And the couriers" dining-room was a princess"s boudoir in an enchanted palace. The grease spots were stars and moons that had rolled out of heaven to see how two poor mortals looked when they were perfectly happy. Just a poor chauffeur and a motor maid: but the world was theirs.
CHAPTER x.x.xII
After a while we talked again, and explained all the cross-purposes to each other, with the most interesting pauses in between the explanations. And Jack told me about himself, and Miss Paget.
It seems that her only sister was his mother, and she had been in love with his father before he met the sister. The father"s name was Claud, and Jack was named after him. It was Miss Paget"s favourite name, because of the man she had loved. But the first Claud wasn"t very lucky.
He lost all his own money and most of his wife"s, and died in South America, where he"d gone in the hope of making more. Then the wife, Jack"s mother, died too, while he was at Eton. After that Miss Paget"s house was his home. Whenever he was extravagant at Oxford, as he was sometimes, she would pay his debts quite happily, and tell him that everything she had would be his some day, so he was not to bother about money. Accordingly, he didn"t bother, but lived rather a lazy life--so he said--and enjoyed himself. A couple of years before I met him he got interested, through a friend, in a newly invented motor, which they both thought would be a wonderful success. Jack tried to get his aunt interested, too, but she didn"t like the friend who had invented it--seemed jealous of Jack"s affection for him--and refused to have anything to do with the affair. Jack had gone so far, however, while taking her consent for granted, that he felt bound to go on; and when Miss Paget would have nothing to do with floating the new invention, Jack sold out the investments of his own little fortune (all that was left of his mother"s money), putting everything at his friend"s disposal. Miss Paget was disgusted with him for doing this, and when the motor wouldn"t mote and the invention wouldn"t float, she just said, "I told you so!"
It was at this time, Jack went on to tell me, that Miss Paget bought Beau. She had had another dog, given her by Jack, which died, and she collected Beau herself. Only a few days after Beau"s arrival, Jack went down into the country to see his aunt and talk things over; for she had brought him up to expect to be her heir; and as she wanted him with her continually, as if he had been her son, she had objected to his taking up any profession. Now that he"d lost his own money in this unfortunate speculation, he felt he ought to do something not to be dependent upon her, his income of two hundred a year having been sunk with the unfloatable motor invention. He meant to ask Miss Paget to lend him enough to go in as partner with another friend, who had a very thriving motor business, and to suggest paying her back so much a year. But everything was against him on that visit to his aunt"s country house.
In the first place, she was in a very bad humour with him, because he had gone against her wishes, and she didn"t want to hear anything more about motors or motor business. Then, there was Beau, as a _tertium quid_.
Beau had been bought from a dreadful man who had probably stolen, and certainly ill-treated him. The dog was very young, and owing to his late owner"s cruelty, feared and hated the sight of a man. Since she had had him Miss Paget had done her very best to spoil the poor animal, encouraging him to growl at the men-servants, and laughing when he frightened away any male creature who had come about the place. While she and Jack were arguing over money and motors, who should stroll in but Beau, who at sight of a stranger--a man--closeted with his indulgent mistress, flew into a rage. He seized Jack by the trouser-leg and began to worry it, and Jack had to choke him before the dog would let go his grip.
The sight of this dreadful deed threw Miss Paget into hysterics. She shrieked that her nephew was cruel, ungrateful--that he had never loved her, that he cared only for her money, and now that he grudged her the affection of a dog with which _he_ had had nothing to do; that the dog"s dislike for him was a warning to her, and made her see him in his true light at last. "Go--go--out of my sight--or I"ll set my poor darling at you!" she cried, and Jack went, after saying several rather frank things.
At heart he was fond of his aunt, in spite of her eccentricities, and believed that she was of him, therefore he expected a letter of apology for her injustice and a request to come back. But no such letter ever arrived. Perhaps Miss Paget thought it was _his_ place to apologize, and was waiting for him to do so. In any case, they had never seen each other again; and after a few weeks, Jack received a formal note from his aunt"s solicitor saying that, as she realized now he had "no real affection for her or _hers_" he need look for no future advantages from her, but was at liberty to take up any line of business he chose. Miss Paget would "no longer attempt to interfere with his wishes or direct his affairs."
This must have been a pleasant letter for a penniless young man, just robbed of all his future prospects. His own money gone, and no hope of any to put into a profession or business! Jack lived as he could for some months, trying for all sorts of positions, making a few guineas by sketches and motoring articles for newspapers, and somehow contriving to keep out of debt. He went to France to "write up" a great automobile race, as a special commission; but the paper which had given the commission--a new one devoted to the interests of motoring--suddenly failed. Jack found himself stranded; advertised for a position as chauffeur, and got it. There was the history which he "hadn"t inflicted on me before, lest I should be bored."
He was interested to hear of Miss Paget"s journey to Italy, and knew all about the cousin who had died, leaving her money which she didn"t need, and a castle in Italy which she didn"t want. He laughed when I told him how the redoubtable Simpkins refused to trust herself upon that "great nasty wet thing," which was the Channel: but nothing could hold his attention firmly except _our_ affairs. For his affairs and my affairs were not separate any longer. They were joined together for weal or woe.
Whatever happened, however imprudent the step might be, he decided that we must be married. We loved each other; each was the other"s world, and nothing must part us. Besides, said Jack, I needed a protector. I had no home, and he could not have me persecuted by creatures who produced Corn Plasters. His idea was to take me to England at once, and have me there promptly made Mrs. John Dane, by special licence. He had a few pounds, and a few things which he could sell would bring in a few more. Then, with me for an incentive, he should get something to do that was worth doing.
I said "Yes" to everything, and Jack darted away to converse with a nice man he had met in the garage, who had a motor, and was going to Paris almost immediately. If he had not gone yet, perhaps he would take us.
Luckily he had not gone, and he did take us. He took us to the Gare du Nord, where we would just have time to eat something, and catch the boat train for Calais. We should be in London in the morning, and Jack would apply for a special licence as early as possible.
I stood guarding our humble heap of luggage, while Jack spent his hard-earned sovereigns for our tickets, when suddenly I heard a voice which sounded vaguely familiar. It was broken with distress and excitement; still I felt sure I had heard it before, and turned quickly, exclaiming "Miss Paget!"
There she was, with a dressing bag in one hand, and a broken dog-leash in the other. Tears were running down her fat face (not so fat as it had been) under spectacles, and her false front was put on anyhow.
"Oh, my dear girl!" she wailed, without showing the slightest sign of astonishment at sight of me. "What a mercy you"ve turned up, but it"s just like you. Have you seen my Beau anywhere?"
"No," I said, rather stiffly, for I couldn"t forgive her or her dog for their treatment of my Jack.
"Oh, dear, what shall I do!" she exclaimed. "He hates railway stations.
You can"t think the awful time we"ve had since you left me in the train at Cannes. And now he"s broken his leash, and run away, and I can"t speak any French, except to ask for hot water in Italian, and I don"t see how I"m going to find my darling again. They"ll s.n.a.t.c.h him up, to fling him into some terrible, murderous waggon, and take him to a lethal home, or whatever they call it. For heaven"s sake, go and ask everybody where he is--and if you find him you can have anything on earth I"ve got, especially my Italian castle which I can"t sell. You can come to England with me and Beau, when you"ve got him, and I"ll make you happy all the rest of your life. Oh, go--_do_ go. I"ll look after your luggage."
"It"s half your own nephew"s, Jack Dane"s, luggage," said I, breathless and pulsing. "I"m going to England with him, and _he"s_ going to make me happy all the rest of my life, for we mean to be married, in spite of your cruelty which has made him poor, and turned him into a chauffeur.
But--here he comes now. And--why, Miss Paget, there"s _Beau_ walking with him, without any leash. Beau must remember him."
"Beau with Jack Dane!" gasped the old lady. "Jack Dane"s found Beau?
_Beau"s_ forgiven him! Then so will I. You can both have the Italian castle--and everything that goes with it. And everything else that"s mine, too, except Beau."
"h.e.l.lo, aunt, here"s your dog," said Jack.
Beau licked his foot.
BOOKS BY C. N. AND A. M. WILLIAMSON
LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA
SET IN SILVER
THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR
THE PRINCESS Pa.s.sES
MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR
LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER
ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA