'tis very easy to make love;
a smile--a pressure of the hand.
a reference to the stars above,
a "fly with me to some far land,"
a sigh as soft as coo of dove,
a kiss--the rest she'll understand.
mr. gelthrip, thinking no one but himself knew anything, had contradicted his clerical superior on some point connected with the introduction of printing into england, and the vicar in great wrath had carried off his dogmatic curate to the library in order to prove his case. the two elder ladies were talking about sir rupert as mrs. valpy had met him a few months previously, and mrs. belswin was trying to find out all about her quondam husband, in order to strengthen her position as much as possible. at present she knew that she was entirely at the mercy of sir rupert, so if she could discover something detrimental to his character it might serve as a weapon against him. the scheme which she hoped to carry through with the assistance of ferrari, was a dangerous one; and moreover, she was doubtful if the italian would consent to aid her; therefore she was anxious to try all other methods of coercing her husband before resorting to the last and most terrible expedient. she was a clever woman, was mrs. belswin, and the instinct for discovery, which she inherited from her savage grandparents, made her wonderfully acute in cross-examining simple mrs. valpy, who not comprehending the subtlety of her companion, told all she knew about the baronet in the most open manner. the result was not gratifying to mrs. belswin; for with all her dexterity in twisting, and turning and questioning, and hinting, she discovered nothing likely to compromise sir rupert in any way.
"it's no use," she thought, with a feeling of despair in her heart, "rupert has it all his own way, and i can do nothing--nothing except----"
she smiled significantly, and simple mrs. valpy, seeing that the companion was looking at toby and her daughter, who were amusing themselves at the piano, misinterpreted the smile, and therefore spoke according to her misinterpretation.
"they'll make a very happy couple, won't they, mrs. belswin?"
mrs. belswin, thus being appealed to, started, smiled politely, and assented with much outward show of interest to the remark of the old lady.
"it's so nice for toby to have his home here," pursued mrs. valpy, with much satisfaction; "because, you know, our place is not far from the vicarage, so i shall not be parted from my daughter."
the other woman started, and laid her hand on her breast, as if to still the beating of her heart.
"yes; it would be a terrible thing to part with your only child," she said in a low voice. "i know what the pain of such a separation is."
"you have parted from your child, then?" said mrs. valpy, sympathetically.
mrs. belswin clutched her throat, and gave an hysterical laugh.
"well, no; not exactly;" she said, still in the same low voice; "but--but my little daughter--my little daughter died many years ago."
it was very hard for her to lie like this when her daughter was only a few yards away, chatting to maxwell at the window; but mrs. belswin looked upon such necessary denial as punishment for her sins, and accepted it accordingly.
"i'm very sorry," observed mrs. valpy, with well-bred condolence. "still, time brings consolation."
"not to all people."
"oh, yes, i think so. besides, now you have that dear girl, kaituna, and she seems very fond of you."
"yes."
she could say no more. the strangeness of the situation excited her to laughter, to that laughter which is very near tears, and she was afraid to speak lest she should break down.
"and then sir rupert will be so glad to find his daughter has such a good friend."
the mention of the hated name restored mrs. belswin to her usual self, and with a supercilious glance at the blundering woman who had so unconsciously wounded her, she answered in her ordinary manner--
"i hope so! but i'm afraid i shall not have an opportunity of seeing sir rupert at once, as i go to town shortly, on business."
"but you will return?"
"oh, yes! of course i shall return, unless some unforeseen circumstances should arise. we are never certain of anything in the future, you know, mrs. valpy."
"no, perhaps not! at all events i think you will like sir rupert."
mrs. belswin sneered.
"oh, do you think so?"
"i'm certain. such a gentlemanly man. quite young for his age. i wonder he does not marry again."
"perhaps he had enough of matrimony with his first wife," said mrs. belswin, coolly.
"oh, he was devotedly attached to her."
"was he, indeed?"
"yes! simply worshipped her. she died in new zealand when kaituna was a baby, i believe, and sir rupert told me how this loss had overshadowed his life."
"hypocrite!" murmured mrs. belswin, between her clenched teeth.
the conversation was becoming a little difficult for her to carry on, as she dare not disclose herself yet, and did not care about exchanging complimentary remarks on the subject of a man she detested so heartily.
at this moment toby struck a chord on the piano, and tommy burst out laughing, so, with ready wit, mrs. belswin made this interruption serve as an excuse to break off the conversation.
"the young people seem to be merry," she said to mrs. valpy, and rising to her feet, "i must go over and see what the joke is about."
mrs. valpy nodded sleepily, feeling somewhat drowsy after her dinner, so mrs. belswin, seeing she did not mind being left to her own devices, walked across to the piano and interrupted the two lovers, for which interruption, however, they did not feel profoundly grateful.
"won't you sing something?" asked the companion, addressing toby, "or you, miss valpy?"
"oh, my songs are too much of the orthodox drawing-room' type," replied miss valpy, disparagingly. "now toby is original in his ditties. come, let's have a little chin-music, toby!"
"wherever do you learn such slang?" said mrs. belswin, with a smile.
"toby."
"i! oh, how can you? i speak the queen's english."
"do you really?" said tommy, laughing. "well, i at present speak the president's american, so go right along, stranger, and look slippy with the barrel organ."
"if your mother hears you," remonstrated mrs. belswin, "she will----"
"yes, i know she will," retorted tommy, imperturbably; "but she's asleep and i'm awake, very much so. i say, mrs. belswin, where's kaituna?"
"i think she's walking on the lawn with mr. maxwell."
"as a chaperon you should hunt them out," said miss valpy, mischievously.
"suppose i give the same advice to your mother," replied mrs. belswin, dryly.
"don't," said toby, in mock horror; "as you are strong be merciful."
"certainly, if you sing something."
"what shall i sing?"
"anything," said tommy, sitting down, "except that new style of song, all chords and no tune."
toby laughed mischievously and began to sing--
"if i mashed her would she kiss me?
no! no! no!
if i bolted would she miss me?
no! no! no!
she knows i haven't got a rap;
besides, there is the other chap--
at him, not me, she sets her cap;
no! no! no!"
"mr. clendon," said tommy, in a tone of dignified rebuke, "we don't want any music-hall songs. if you can't sing something refined, don't sing at all."
"i must collect my ideas first," replied toby, running his fingers over the piano. "wait till the spirit moves me."
mrs. belswin had resumed her seat near the sleeping form of mrs. valpy, and was thinking deeply, though her thoughts, judging from the savage expression in her fierce eyes, did not seem to be very agreeable ones, while tommy leaned over the piano watching toby's face as he tried to seek inspiration from her smiles.
outside on the short dry grass of the lawn, kaituna was strolling, accompanied by archie maxwell. the grass extended for some distance in a gentle slope, and was encircled by tall trees, their heavy foliage drooping over the beds of flowers below. beyond, the warm blue of the sky, sparkling with stars, and just over the trembling tree-tops the golden round of the moon. a gentle wind was blowing through the rustling leaves, bearing on its faint wings the rich odours of the flowers, and the lawn was strewn with aerial shadows that trembled with the trembling of the trees. then the white walls of the vicarage, the sloping roof neutral tinted in the moonlight, the glimmer of the cold shine on the glass of the upstair windows, and below, the yellow warm light streaming out of the drawing-room casements on the gravelled walk, the lawn beyond, and the figures of the two lovers moving like black shadows through the magical light. a nightingale began to sing deliciously, hidden in the warm dusk of the leaves, then another bird in the distance answered the first. the hoot of an owl sounded faintly through the air, the sharp whirr of a cricket replied, and all the night seemed full of sweet sounds.
kaituna sat down on a bench placed under the drawing-room windows, and archie, standing beside her, lighted a cigarette after asking and obtaining the requisite permission. the voices of the vicar and his curate sounded in high dispute from the adjacent library; there was a murmur of conversation from within, where mrs. belswin was talking to the other lovers, and at intervals the sharp notes of the piano struck abruptly through the voices, the songs of the nightingale, and the charm of the night.
"what i miss very much in the sky here," said kaituna, looking up at the stars, "is the southern cross."
"yes; i have seen it myself," replied archie, removing his cigarette. "you know i have travelled a great deal."
"and intend to travel still more!"
"perhaps."
"you don't seem very sure, mr. maxwell. what about south america?"
"i thought i had told you that i had changed my mind about south america."
kaituna flushed a little at the significance of his words, and cast down her eyes.
"i believe you said something about putting off your journey till the end of the year."
"i'll put it off altogether, if a certain event takes place."
"and that certain event?"
"cannot you guess?"
duplicity on the part of the woman, who knew perfectly well the event to which the young man referred.
"no, i am afraid i can't."
"miss pethram--kaituna, i----"
"hush! mr. clendon is singing."
it was only to gain time for reflection, as she knew that a declaration of love trembled on his lips, but with feminine coquetry could not help blowing hot to his cold.
and toby was singing a bold martial song, with a curious accompaniment like the trotting of a horse--a song which thrilled through the listeners, with its fierce exultation and savage passion.
on god and his prophet i seven times called me;
i opened the koran--the omen appalled me;
i read it--thou wast to be bride to another;
i knew my betrayer, 'twas him i called brother,
zulema! zulema!
i sprang on my steed as he waited beside me,
then rode through the desert with allah to guide me;
fierce blew the sirocco, its terrors were idle;
i galloped till dawn to be first at your bridal
zulema! zulema!
i rode to the tent-door, your father's tribe knew me;
they dreamed of the glory they'd gain if they slew me;
i dashed through the cowards--i met my betrayer,
he fell from his saddle, and i was his slayer,
zulema! zulema!
you ran from your dwelling--your father's spears missed me;
you sprang to my saddle with fervour to kiss me;
we broke through the press of your kinsfolk, my foemen;
i won thee, zulema, so false was the omen;
zulema! zulema!
"ah!" said archie, with a long breath, when the fierce cry had rung out for the last time, "that is the way to win a bride."
kaituna thought so too, although she did not make any remark, but the shrill savagery of the song had stirred her hereditary instincts profoundly, and even in the dim moonlight archie could see the distension of her nostrils, and the flash of excitement that sparkled in her eyes. it gave him an idea, and throwing himself on his knees, he began to woo her as fiercely and as freely as ever her dusky ancestors had been wooed in the virgin recesses of new zealand woods.
"kaituna, i love you! i love you. you must have seen it; you must know it. this is no time for timid protestations, for doubtful sighing. give me your hands." he seized them in his strong grasp. "i am a man, and i must woo like a man. i love you! i love you! i wish you to be my wife. i am poor, but i am young, and with you beside me, i can do great things. say that you will marry me."
"but my father!"
he sprang to his feet, still holding her hands, and drew her forcibly towards him.
"your father may consent--he may refuse. i do not care for his consent or his refusal. say you will be my wife, and no human being shall come between us. i have no money. i will gain a fortune for you. i have no home--i will make one for you. youth, love, and god are on our side, and we are made the one for the other. you must not say no! you shall not say no. you are the woman needed to complete my life; and god has given you to me. lay aside your coquetry, your hesitations, your fears. speak boldly to me as i do to you. let no false modesty--no false pride--no maidenly dread come between us. i love you, kaituna. will you be my wife?"
there was something in this akin to the fierce wooing of primeval man. all the artificial restraints of civilisation were laid aside. the doubts, the fears, the looks, the shrinkings, all these safeguards and shields of nervous natures had vanished before this whirlwind of passion, which bore down such feeble barriers set between man and woman. as his eyes ardent with love, passionate with longing, flashed into her own she felt her bosom thrill, her blood rush rapidly through her veins, and, with an inarticulate cry, wherein all the instincts she had inherited from her maori ancestors broke forth, she flung herself on his heaving breast.
"kaituna!"
"yes! yes! take me i take me! i am yours, and yours only."
