Spring Days Part 18

"Well, then, you have a treat. The most beautiful thing in England is the Thames--perhaps in the world. Last year I spent nearly three months at Marlow and Maidenhead--we positively lived in a boat. I have a beautiful boat. I should like to take you out--you would enjoy it.

Are you fond of boating?"

"I love it. I haven't been in a boat since I left Wales."

"So you are a Welsh girl. My boat is now at Reading. If you could get away early in the morning we might manage to catch the nine o'clock express that takes us down in a little over the hour. I'd have the hamper packed, and we would have our lunch up in Pangbourne Woods. It would be so jolly. I wish you would come."

"I should like it immensely; I don't know if I could manage it."

"Do you say you will come, do."

Lizzie stood hesitating, her finger on her lip. A girl entered the bar and whispered something to her as she pa.s.sed.

"I must go away now, I'm off duty."

"Say you will come."

"I can't say yet; I shall see you again."

As Frank turned to go he caught sight of Harding and Fletcher. He did not see that they had been watching him, and when they called him he went over to their table.

"What will you have?" said Harding.

"Nothing, thanks, I could not drink anything more."

"Have a cigarette."

"Thanks, I will; I cannot smoke this beastly cigar. I do not know why I asked for it."

"Sit down."

The conversation turned on the play, but at the first pause in the conversation, Harding said: "Pretty girl, that girl you were talking to at the bar."

"Yes; is she not? I think she is one of the prettiest girls I ever saw in my life."

"Far better looking than Lady Seveley."

"I should rather think so; Lady Seveley is over thirty."

"The choice would be a nice test of a young man's moral character."

"Did you write that this morning, or are you going to write it to- morrow morning?"

"You have not told me which, when you do--"

"I see you are not in a hurry to bring your book out."

Harding laughed, and Frank was pleased at the idea of getting the better of Harding; Fletcher sat with his eyes glittering and his lips slightly parted. Who would hesitate between a lady of rank and a barmaid? She might be a pretty girl, but what of that? There are hundreds as pretty. He had never been the lover of a lady, and his heart was aflame. Soon after the men parted in the street, and Frank went from them, fearful of his lonely rooms, and longing for his friends at Southwick.

He lunched every day at the Gaiety, and he at length succeeded in persuading Lizzie to come to Reading with him.

Town was miserably Sunday when he drove up to Paddington at a quarter past eight. "If it should rain, if it should turn out a pouring wet day, what should I do? That would be too terrible!" He felt the boat alive beneath his oars, the river placid and gentle, and all the charm of the rushes, the cedars, the locks, and the blonde beautiful girl in the stern with the parasol he had bought her aslant. Let him have this day, and he didn't care what happened! He wanted to show her the river, he wanted to joy for a day in her presence.

He was more than a half an hour in advance. Would she come? She had promised, but she might disappoint. That would be worse than the rain.

He would wait till ten o'clock. There was another train at ten, but if they missed the ten to nine the day would be spoilt, lost. Supposing she did not come, what would he do?--drive back through dingy London and eat a lonely breakfast in that horrible brick Pump Court? He could scarcely do that. Would he go to Reading by himself? The light of the flowing stream, the secrets of the rushes and murmuring woods died; nature became voiceless.

"It will be a pity if she doesn't come. We shall have a fine day, I am sure it is going to be a fine day, but we shall miss that train. I wonder if I can see anything of her. I don't know what side she will come from. I suppose she'll take a cab. Perhaps she won't come at all; will she come?--she promised me. By Jove, twenty minutes to nine. If she isn't here in five minutes we shall miss the train." His pa.s.sion grew in intensity, and hope was dead, when he heard sounds of running footsteps, and saw the great girl holding her hat with one hand and her dress with the other. The torture of expectation was worth the rapture of relief, and he said, delighted: "So you have come, have you? One minute more and you would have been late."

"Why, were you going?"

"No, but the train is. We have three minutes. I'll run and get the tickets. How is it that you are so late?"

"I just missed the train."

"What train?"

"The Metropolitan."

"The Metropolitan? What nonsense! Why didn't you take a cab?"

She had been afraid of spending the money, fearing she might not see him after all; and out of breath she followed him along the platform.

"No, not in there; I don't like travelling alone with gentlemen."

Frank looked at her in amazement, and they got into a carriage where an old gentleman was sitting.

"So you thought I wouldn't come, you naughty boy?"

"Oh, I should have been so disappointed. I don't know what I should have done."

Lizzie watched the young aristocratic face; his earnestness drew her towards him, and she wondered she did not like him better. "Now tell me what we are going to do. I had such difficulty in getting away. It is against the rules; and the manageress (the fat woman who stands at the end of the bar and goes round and collects the money) hates me.

She would have stopped me if she could, but I went to the manager; he is a friend of mine."

"That fellow with the long fair moustache that walks about at the rate of seven miles an hour, with his frock-coat all unb.u.t.toned. Harding the novelist--the fellow I was sitting with the other night, said such a good thing--he said he was a sort of apotheosis of sherry and bitters. I don't know why it is good, but it is; whether it is the colour of his face and moustache--"

"He is very proud of his moustache, and your friend is quite right; he is very fond of sherry and bitters--too fond. I have served him with as many as three in an afternoon, and I am sure he wouldn't have refused another if he could have found any one to stand it. Oh, look at the country! How pretty it is!--the cows, the corn growing, the birds and all the light clouds; we are going to have a lovely day.

Shall we see much of the country at Reading? Tell me, where are you going to take me? Shall we go for a walk in the woods? Are there any woods? I hope there are."

"The most beautiful woods in England--Pangbourne Woods. We shall arrive in Reading about a quarter to ten. We'll walk down to the river, or drive if you like; it is only a few minutes to walk to the boat-house. My boat is there--such a beauty! We'll row up to the--and that reminds me, I ordered the luncheon basket at the best place in London, you know; it was to have been at my place last night at eight o'clock, and they never sent it. We shall have to lunch at the hotel.

Such a beautiful hotel, high up, overlooking the river; I hope you are not disappointed, it really wasn't my fault. We shall have an excellent lunch, I a.s.sure you, at the hotel."

The miles fled away, and in the comfort and speed of the broad gaugeline, an hour and a half seemed to them like a minute.

"What kind of town is Reading?" said Lizzie, springing from the carriage.

"Not much more than a biscuit manufactory. A lot of red brick pill-box looking buildings scattered over a flat piece of ground. We shan't see the town. It is a mile from here. Huntley and Palmer, you know--"

"Oh, yes, we deal with them."

"Catch hold of this rug while I get the tickets out. Shall we walk or drive?"