Guy and Pauline Part 47

"If anything happened to prevent our marriage," began Pauline thoughtfully, and then was silent.

Miss Verney opened wide her pale blue eyes.

"And what could happen?" she asked grandly.

"I've no business to imagine such a thing, have I?"

"None whatever," said Miss Verney decidedly.

But had Miss Verney's love affair been complicated by anything more than merely natural difficulties? Guy's debts and unsuccess were nothing in comparison with other elements of disaccord ... and then Pauline pulled herself up from brooding and resolutely forced her mind to contemplate a happy Summer. Had she not just now been congratulating herself upon the disappearance of all worries in this sea-air?

The time at Scarborough drew to a close, and about a week before her birthday came the news of Richard's arrival from India. She and Miss Verney packed up and were home in Wychford two days before they were expected.

"Richard, how lovely to see you again," Pauline cried. "And oh, Richard, I'm sure you've grown. Don't you think he has grown?" she demanded of everybody. "Richard, how clever of you to grow when you're twenty-seven."

It was really like old times to go babbling on like this, while Richard sat and smiled encouragingly and spoke never a word.

"Coming for a stroll?" he asked.

"Oh, but I ought to see Guy first," she said. "Richard, I hope you like Guy."

He nodded.

"Do you think he looks like a poet?"

"Never seen a poet before," said Richard.

"Oh, but like your idea of a poet?"

"Never thought much about poets," said Richard. "So you aren't coming for a stroll?"

"I will to-morrow, but I must spend the sunset with Guy."

Guy was waiting for her by the paddock, and they floated downstream out of reach of people. In their own peninsula they kissed away the absence of twenty-two days.

"You look much better," said Guy critically.

"I'm perfectly well."

"And happy?"

She answered him with her eyes.

"Why, Pauline, I believe you're quite shy of me!"

She blushed.

"I really am a little, you know," she whispered. "Did you like Richard?

Oh, Guy, I hope you did."

"Of course I did."

"And, Guy, you don't mind if I go for a walk with him to-morrow morning?

You see, I know he's longing to hear about Margaret and himself."

"But you'll come out with me in the afternoon?"

"Why, of course."

"Then Richard may have the morning," said Guy. "And I hope you'll arrange everything between him and Margaret so successfully that he won't steal any more hours from me."

When Pauline had left Guy that evening she thought how strangely it had been like meeting him for the first time all over again. Or rather it was as if they had walked a long way down the wrong road and were now beginning to walk somewhat tentatively along what she hoped was surely the right road at last. Her duty was above all to help Guy with the material burdens: she must never again let him think that his debts or his prospects had any power to worry her. Merely most tactfully must she try to keep him from extravagance, and, oh dear, how she hoped that he had not bought her an expensive birthday present. It was too late to say anything about it now, but if Guy had been wisely economical, how happy she would be. How she hoped too that Richard had not brought home from India a present that would annoy Margaret. Really it was a most oppressive business, this week before her coming of age, for between Guy's extravagance and Richard's ... well, it was really not so much bad taste as Indian taste. She would love anything he gave her of course, but perhaps he would consult beforehand with Margaret. Dear Richard, he was so sweet and touching, and if only he had not brought her something very elaborately carved. She met him next morning half way to Fairfield, and two years were obliterated as she kept pace with his long stride when they turned aside from the high road and tramped upward over the gra.s.sy wold.

"Richard, isn't it very hot in India?"

He nodded.

"And didn't you ever get used to walking a bit more slowly in India?"

He laughed.

"You lazy little thing. I thought you and Aunt Verney had been in training at Scarborough. Come on, let's sit down then."

They sat down, and Richard drew with his stick in the close turf.

"Is that your bridge?" Pauline asked with all the interest she could put into her voice.

He laughed for a long time.

"Pauline, you villain, it's the beginning of Margaret's face!"

She clapped her hands.

"Oh, Richard, aren't I a villain? But, you know, it's not very frightfully like anything, is it?"

"Pauline," he said suddenly in that sharp voice in which two years ago he had entrusted his interests to her before he went away. "Pauline, is Margaret going to marry me?"

"Why, of course she is, Richard."

"Has she spoken to you about me?"

"But you know she never speaks about her own affairs and that she can't bear anybody else to speak of them to her."

"Then how do you know?" he asked.

"Well, perhaps because I'm so much in love with Guy," Pauline whispered.

"I don't see how that quite works. I'm a very dull sort of a chap after that Guy of yours."