Charles Rex - Ethel May Dell (i love reading .TXT) 📗

said Sheila, turning from the rail.
The little boat had passed out of sight under the lee of the yacht. A great rocket whistled skywards, and broke in a violet flare that lighted sea and shore. The _fete_ was over, and people were crowding on board. The band was playing a selection from a comic opera, and a few voices were singing the careless, sentimental words.
Saltash turned with his companion. "And now we are going to supper at The Anchor. I must get Mrs. Bolton to lead the way. Poor Jake is bored to the soul, but he's facing it like a man. Fine fellow--Jake."
"Oh, is he a friend of yours?" Sheila asked. "A very particular friend, I mean?"
Saltash grimaced to the stars. "No, I don't think so. Ask Jake! He knows me better than some, that's all. And I know him."
They left the yacht's rail and joined the on-coming throng. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale--the gaudy Chinese lanterns bobbing to and fro, the gaily-coloured crowd, the shining white yacht rocking gently on the noiseless swell. Everyone was laughing. Some were singing. There was not a serious face to be seen in all the crowd that poured over the red-carpeted gangway from the quay.
"Where is Toby?" said Maud.
She was standing with Jake in the many-hued glow of the lanterns, and she asked the question with a momentary anxiety, for she had looked in vain for Toby for some time.
"She's with Bunny. She's safe enough," said Jake.
"But they haven't come on board yet, and they've been gone so long," Maud said. "It's curious how little Captain Larpent seems to interest himself in her doings."
"Mighty curious," agreed Jake.
For Larpent had kept to the bridge morosely, almost throughout the evening. He was standing there now, looking down upon the shifting, chattering crowd. He had no idea how long it would be before Saltash tired of the game and gave orders to set sail. He waited in dumb endurance--as he would wait from day to day until the longed-for moment arrived. It had happened often before, Saltash's caprice had sometimes driven him to the verge of rebellion, but no one--not even Saltash himself--ever suspected it. Silent, phlegmatic, inexpressive, Larpent held on his undeviating course.
Maud's attention did not linger upon him. No one--save perhaps Saltash--ever paid much attention to Larpent. She turned back to watch the now empty gangway, and in a moment she gave an exclamation of relief.
"Ah! Here they come at last!"
A laughing voice spoke behind her. "Enter Cinderella and the Prince!"
She started and saw Saltash's swarthy face close to her. His odd eyes looked into hers with a flash of mischief.
"See how all my plans bear fruit!" he said. "I wave my wand, and you behold the result."
She turned from him to look again upon the advancing couple. They were crossing the gangway alone. Toby, slim, girlish, her wide blue eyes shining like the eyes of an awakened child, Bunny close behind her, touching her, his hand actually on her shoulder, possession and protection in every line of him. He was murmuring into her ear as they came, and his face was alight with the glory which no earthly lamp can kindle.
"Behold!" Saltash said again, and moved forward in his sudden fashion to receive them.
He met them as they stepped on board, and in a moment they were the centre of observation. The buzz of talk died down as the general attention focussed upon them. Maud was aware of Jake standing squarely behind her, and she put out a hand to him which he grasped and held.
Saltash was laughing, but they could not hear what he said. Only in a moment he had taken a hand of Bunny's and a hand of Toby's and joined them together. Toby's eyes were lifted to his face. She was smiling with lips that trembled, and Maud's heart gave a great throb of pity, she could not have said wherefore. She had a deep longing to go and gather the child into her arms and comfort her.
Then Toby too was laughing, and she heard Saltash's voice. "These things only happen properly once in a blue moon, _ma chere_. I give you both my blessing for the second time to-day. I wish you better luck than has ever come my way."
He threw a gay malicious glance towards the bridge, where Larpent stood like a grim Viking looking down upon the scene.
"Come!" he said. "We had better go and tell your daddy next!"
He led them lightly forward, and the crowd opened out with jests and laughter to let them pass.
Toby walked between the two men, very pale but still smiling--a smile that was curiously like the smile of a child that is trying not to cry.
"Oh, poor little thing!" Maud whispered suddenly and drew back beside Jake as if she could not bear to look.
"She'll be all right," said Jake stoutly. "Don't you fret any! Bunny's sound."
"Oh, yes, I know--I know! But she's so young." All the yearning of motherhood was in Maud's voice. "Does she love him? Does she?"
Jake's hand gripped hers more closely. He looked into her face with a smile in his red-brown eyes. "Maybe not as we know love," he said. "It doesn't come all at once--that sort."
She smiled back at him, for she could not help it, even as she shook her head in misgiving. "Sometimes--it doesn't come at all!" she said.


CHAPTER IX
THE WARNING

It seemed to Maud that in the days that followed her engagement Toby developed with the swiftness of an opening flower. There was no talk of her leaving them. She fitted into the establishment as though she had always been a part of it, and she took upon herself responsibilities which Maud would never have laid upon her.
Watching her anxiously, it seemed to her that Toby was becoming more settled, more at rest, than she had ever been before. The look of fear was dormant in her eyes now, and her sudden flares of anger had wholly ceased. She made no attempt to probe below the surface, realizing the inadvisability of such a course, realizing that the first days of an engagement are seldom days of expansion, being full of emotions too varied for analysis. That Toby should turn to her or to Jake if she needed a confident she did not for a moment doubt, but unless the need arose she resolved to leave the girl undisturbed. She had, moreover, great faith in Bunny's powers. As Jake had said, Bunny was sound, and she knew him well enough to be convinced that he would find a means of calming any misgivings that might exist in Toby's mind.
It appeared as if he had already done so in fact, for Toby was never nervous in his presence. She greeted him with pleasure and went with him gladly whenever he came to seek her. They met every day, usually in the evening when Bunny was free, and the children gone to bed. Maud would watch them wander out together into the summer solitudes, Chops walking sedately behind, and would smile to herself very tenderly at the sight. She believed that Toby was winning to happiness and she prayed with all her soul that it might last.
Saltash came no more during these summer days. He had departed in his abrupt way for his first pleasure cruise in _The Blue Moon_, taking no friend, save the ever-present Larpent, to relieve the monotony. No one knew whither they were bound, or if the voyage were to be long or short. He dropped out of his circle as a monkey drops from a tree, and beyond a passing wonder at his movements no one questioned either motive or intention. Probably he had neither in any appreciable degree. It was only the caprice of the moment that ever moved him. So his friends said. He evidently found his new toy attractive, and he would not return until he wearied of it.
Meantime, the summer crowds came and went at Fairharbour. The Anchor Hotel was crowded with visitors, and Sheila and her father began to talk of departure for Scotland.
Jake had gone to an important race-meeting in the North, and it seemed that Bunny's suggestion to show them the stud had been forgotten. But on an afternoon in late August, after a hotly-contested polo match, as he stood with a fizzling drink in his hand, talking to Sheila, she abruptly reminded him of it.
"It's quite a fortnight since you promised to show me the horses," she said.
He started. "Is it? I'm awfully sorry. I hadn't forgotten, but somehow I've had a lot to think about lately. You must come and have tea with Maud. When will you come?"
Sheila laughed a little. "Hadn't you better ask Maud first?"
"Good gracious, no!" said Bunny. "That'll be all right. She and Toby are always at home just now, and of course she will be pleased to see you any time. When can you come?"
"Well, we are leaving the day after to-morrow," Sheila said.
"To-morrow then!" said Bunny promptly.
"Your sister may not want us at such short notice," she said, hesitating.
"Oh, rats!" said Bunny, with a grin. "Of course she will! Have you seen the Castle yet?"
"Yes. We lunched there with Lord Saltash before he left. It's a horribly grim place. I didn't like it much."
"It's a magnificent place!" said Bunny stoutly. "It's completely thrown away on Charlie of course, but I love every stone of it."
"What a pity it doesn't belong to you!" commented Sheila. "I wonder where you will live when you are married."
Bunny flushed a little. "We're not marrying at present, but I'm hoping to stick to my job when we do."
"Oh, are you? Does Miss Larpent like that idea?" Faint surprise sounded in Sheila's tone.
"I don't know why she shouldn't," said Bunny, quick to detect it. "She's keen on the country, keen on riding and so on. She'd hate to live in town."
"Would she?" said Sheila, with a hint of incredulity.
Bunny turned on her. "Why do you say that? She's very young, hardly more than a kid. She doesn't care for people and towns. Why should she?"
He put the question almost indignantly, and Sheila smiled at him pacifically. "I don't know in the least why she should. I only had a sort of idea that she might. She is very pretty, isn't she? And pretty girls don't generally care to be buried before they have had their fling--not always then."
"Oh, you think she doesn't get any fun!" said Bunny, still somewhat resentful.
"No--no, of course I don't! You know best what she likes. I only wonder that Maud didn't think of giving her just one season in town. It would be rather good for her, don't you think?"
"I don't know," said Bunny rather shortly. "Maud isn't keen on town. I think she's better where she is."
Sheila laughed. "You're afraid she'd slip through your fingers if she saw too much of the world?"
"No, I'm not!" declared Bunny, frowning. "I hadn't thought about it. But I'd hate her to get old and sophisticated. Her great charm is in being--just what she is."
"Oh, she has plenty of charm," Sheila admitted, and her own brows drew a little in thought. "I wish I could remember who it is she reminds me of. That is the worst of having such a large circle."
"She isn't like anyone I've ever met," declared Bunny, and gulped down his drink abruptly. "Well, I must be going. You'll come up to-morrow then, you and the General. I shall be there, and I'll tell Maud you're coming."
"You are sure we had better come?"