Prince Charlie Part 6

"Oh, Mudie's have sent me down an absolutely abominable selection.

With"--a twinkle escaped from the corner of her eye--"with the exception of that one of yours."

"I won't gratify you with even a smile of approval at so callous a joke," he said coolly. "To trample on my feelings so is positively inhuman. Still, that 'exception' emboldens me."

"In what way?"

"That finding you interested in one of my books, I want you to let me--I want you to favour me by accepting from me a set?"

"A set?"

"I have been guilty of five others." Mock despair was in his tone.

"Accept my contrite apologies."

"Five others!"

"I have to plead guilty to that number. Heinous, isn't it?"

"Oh, I did not mean that."

"And so young too!"

"Really, Mr. Masters!" The flush was being worn again. "You are, really, too bad; raking up old grievances!"

"I would like you to try and think there is a substratum of good."

She ignored his speech, rather the significance in the tone of its delivery; said:

"I did not know--I confess openly, you see. This makes but the third of yours I have read."

"Then there is a possibility of interest being left in the three you have not read. Let the weather be my excuse for forcing them on you."

"As if an excuse were needed! Pray do not speak of your kindness so!"

"Then--I have some work I must finish this afternoon for the post--may I bring them to you this evening?"

She hesitated a moment. Induced to do so by a thought of the unwisdom of playing with fire. His hyper-sensitive nature made him shrink from that hesitation, to nervously say:

"I beg your pardon. I mean I will make a parcel of them and send them up to you."

The note of pain in his voice was so plain that any question of her wisdom--or want of it--vanished. She was moved to put her hand on his arm; to say:

"Don't deprive me of half the pleasure of the gift. Please bring them yourself."

It was a pretty little speech. Prettily spoken. No answering word came to his lips, but the look of gladness in his eyes was eloquent. Eloquent enough to make her mentally pause again and ask herself: was she acting altogether wisely?

Miss Mivvins was sailing under false colours. Was not in a position to haul them down, or fly her own. But she found him entertaining and--and--and very pleasant to talk to. She left it at that.

She could not afterwards remember much of what they talked about on their walk along the wall homewards. But she was conscious of spending a very pleasant afternoon; that it had pa.s.sed away all too quickly. The most entertaining conversations are usually those which flow so smoothly that we forget to note the landmarks and stepping-stones on the way.

She was in a quandary: dared not reveal to him her true self. She had learnt enough of him to know that if she ran up her own flag, one glance at the masthead would mean his sheering right away.

She was not at all anxious that that should happen; did not want to lose him. She had grown to--to--to more than like him. Why, she asked herself petulantly, why could he not be as other men?

The rain held off till they reached her gate. There they said good-bye, shaking hands for the first time. The touch thrilled them both. As an outcome he saw possibilities; felt what their meeting might possibly lead to. It was a pleasant feeling. Things were coloured by it--colour of the rose.

Her good-bye was spoken lightly. Instinctively she tried to counteract that thrill. Yet there was a lingering tone in her voice as she said, finally:

"Till eight o'clock."

Then came Gracie's turn. He stooped down, lifted and kissed her. She said--

"Good-bye, Prince Charlie. I shan't see you in the evening because I go to bed at half-past seven."

"My word! Half-past seven! How late for a little girl to sit up!"

She exclaimed indignantly at so gross an insult:

"I'm not a little girl! I'm nearly five!"

Her indignation was a fleeting one. He held her away; threw her up in the air till she screamed with the delight of the pleasant fear. Then caught and kissed her and set the mite on her feet again.

So he dealt with the child. Then, raising his hat, gave a final kindly smile in the direction of the governess; nodded and said a final good-bye.

Such was their parting. Each was full of thoughts of the other. He walked home wonderingly, thinking, why--for what reason--she had said eight o'clock. It sounded so--then he laughed at his stupid thought.

So life touches life a moment, thrills and bids it stay--as two drops of water in a peaceful stream may touch for an instant and in the next be parted by the waving reeds.

What of after meetings? Would they be guided to one another by that strange fate that we call Destiny?

CHAPTER VI

A STRANGE REQUEST

As a weather prophet Masters proved more reliable than those who fill a like mission on the daily papers.

It rained heavily all the afternoon. His landlady when she brought in his tea remarked that it was pouring cats and dogs--the latter, presumably, of the Skye terrier breed.

A temporary clearance of the weather came about in the evening. Masters was glad; he went to Ivy Cottage. The bungalow-like building was curiously situate in its own square piece of gra.s.s land, fronting the sea. The back of the house looked on to the road leading to the railway station a little distance away. Admission to the cottage was gained by doors at back and front of it.

The house agent entrusted with the letting of the place had described it as possessed of advantages not to be pa.s.sed over lightly. There was one--an unsurpa.s.sed convenience in the matter of not missing a train--that certainly was undeniable and evident.

So close was the back of the house to the railway that from the windows an approaching train could be seen in time enough to allow of easy walking to catch it. Masters walked up the gravel path to the front door. Touched the push of the bell.... A trim maid-servant responded. He enquired:

"Miss Mivvins--is she within?"