The Eagle's Shadow
XXII
"Well!" Mr. Woods observed, lengthening the word somewhat.
In the intimate half-light of the summer-house, he loomed prodigiouslybig. He was gazing downward in careful consideration of three fattortoise-shell pins and a surprising quantity of gold hair, which waspractically all that he could see of Miss Hugonin's person; for thatyoung lady had suddenly become a limp mass of abashed violet ruffles,and had discovered new and irresistible attractions in the mosaicsabout her feet.
Billy's arms were crossed on his breast and his right hand caressedhis chin meditatively. By and bye, "I wonder, now," he reflected,aloud, "if you can give any reason--any possible reason--why youshouldn't be locked up in the nearest sanatorium?"
"You needn't be rude, you know," a voice observed from theneighbourhood of the ruffles, "because there isn't anything you can doabout it."
Mr. Woods ventured a series of inarticulate observations. "But why?"he concluded, desperately. "But why, Peggy?--in Heaven's name, what'sthe meaning of all this?"
She looked up. Billy was aware of two large blue stars; his heartleapt; and then he recalled a pair of gray-green eyes that hadregarded him in much the same fashion not long ago, and he groaned.
"I was unfair to you last night," she said, and the ring of her odd,deep voice, and the richness and sweetness of it, moved him to faintlonging, to a sick heart-hunger. It was tremulous, too, and verytender. "Yes, I was unutterably unfair, Billy. You asked me to marryyou when you thought I was a beggar, and--and Uncle Fred _ought_ tohave left you the money. It was on account of me that he didn't, youknow. I really owed it to you. And after the way I talked to you--solong as I had the money--I--and, anyhow, its very disagreeable andeccentric and _horrid_ of you to object to being rich!" Margaretconcluded, somewhat incoherently.
She had not thought it would be like this. He seemed so stern.
But, "Isn't that exactly like her?" Mr. Woods was demanding of hissoul. "She thinks she has been unfair to me--to me, whom she doesn'tcare a button for, mind you. So she hands over a fortune to make upfor it, simply because that's the first means that comes to hand! Now,isn't that perfectly unreasonable, and fantastic, and magnificent, andincredible?--in short, isn't that Peggy all over? Why, God bless her,her heart's bigger than a barn-door! Oh, it's no wonder that fellowKennaston was grinning just now when he sent me to her! He can affordto grin."
Aloud, he stated, "You're an angel, Peggy that's what you are. I'vealways suspected it, and I'm glad to know it now for a fact. But inthis prosaic world not even angels are allowed to burn up wills forrecreation. Why, bless my soul, child, you--why, there's no tellingwhat trouble you might have gotten into!"
Miss Hugonin pouted. "You needn't be such a grandfather," shesuggested, helpfully.
"But it's a serious business," he insisted. At this point Billy beganto object to her pouting as distracting one's mind from the subjectunder discussion. "It--why, it's----"
"It's what?" she pouted, even more rebelliously.
"Crimson," said Mr. Woods, considering--"oh, the very deepest,duskiest crimson such as you can't get in tubes. It's a colour wasnever mixed on any palette. It's--eh? Oh, I beg your pardon."
"I think you ought to," said Margaret, primly. Nevertheless, she hadbrightened considerably.
"Of course," Mr. Woods continued with a fine colour, "I can't take themoney. That's absurd."
"Is it?" she queried, idly. "Now, I wonder how you're going to helpyourself?"
"Simplest thing in the world," he assured her. "You see this match,don't you, Peggy? Well, now you're going to give me that paper I seein that bag-thing at your waist, and I'm going to burn it till it'sall nice, soft, feathery ashes that can't ever be probated. And thenthe first will, which is practically the same as the last, will beallowed to stand, and I'll tell your father all about the affair,because he ought to know, and you'll have to settle with thosecolleges. And in that way," Mr. Woods submitted, "Uncle Fred's lastwishes will be carried out just as he expressed them, and thereneedn't be any trouble--none at all. So give me the will, Peggy?"
It is curious what a trivial matter love makes of felony.
Margaret's heart sank.
However, "Yes?" said she, encouragingly; "and what do you intend doingafterward?--"
"I--I shall probably live abroad," said Billy. "Cheaper, you know."
"Miss Hugonin pouted. 'You needn't be such agrandfather,' she suggested, helpfully"]
And here (he thought) was an excellent, an undreamed-of opportunity toinform her of his engagement. He had much better tell her now and havedone. Mr. Woods opened his mouth and looked at Margaret, and closedit. Again she was pouting in a fashion that distracted one's mind.
"That would be most unattractive," said Miss Hugonin, calmly. "You'revery stupid, Billy, to think of living abroad. Billy, I think you'realmost as stupid as I am. I've been very stupid, Billy. I thought Iliked Mr. Kennaston. I don't, Billy--not that way. I've just told himso. I'm not--I'm not engaged to anybody now, Billy. But wasn't itstupid of me to make such a mistake, Billy?"
That was a very interesting mosaic there in the summer-house.
"I don't understand," said Mr. Woods. His voice shook, and his handslifted a little toward her and trembled.
Poor Billy dared not understand. Her eyes downcast, her foot tappingthe floor gently, Margaret was all one blush. She, too, was tremblinga little, and she was a little afraid and quite unutterably happy; andoutwardly she was very much the tiny lady of Oberon's court, very muchthe coquette quintessentialised.
It is pitiable that our proud Margaret should come to such a pass. Ah,the men that you have flouted and scorned and bedeviled and mocked at,Margaret--could they see you now, I think the basest of them couldnot but pity and worship you. This man is bound in honour to anotherwoman; yet a little, and his lips will open--very dry, parched lipsthey are now--and he will tell you, and your pride will drive you mad,and your heart come near to breaking.
"Don't you understand--oh, you silly Billy!" She was peeping at himmeltingly from under her lashes.
"I--I'm imagining vain things," said Mr. Woods. "I--oh, Peggy, Peggy,I think I must be going mad!"
He stared hungrily at the pink, startled face that lifted toward his.Ah, no, no, it could not be possible, this thing he had imagined for amoment. He had misunderstood.
And now just for a little (thought poor Billy) let my eyes drink inthose dear felicities of colour and curve, and meet just for a littlethe splendour of those eyes that have the April in them, and rest justfor a little upon that sanguine, close-grained, petulant mouth; andthen I will tell her, and then I think that I must die.
"Peggy----" he began, in a flattish voice.
"They have evidently gone," said the voice of Mr. Kennaston; "yes,those beautiful, happy young people have foolishly deserted the veryprettiest spot in the gardens. Let us sit here, Kathleen."
"But I'm not an eavesdropper," Mr. Woods protested, half angrily.
I fear Margaret was not properly impressed.
"Please, Billy," she pleaded, in a shrill whisper, "please let'slisten. He's going to propose to her now, and you've no idea howfunny he is when he proposes. Oh, don't be so pokey, Billy--do let'slisten!"
But Mr. Woods had risen with a strange celerity and was about to leavethe summer-house.
Margaret pouted. Mrs. Saumarez and Mr. Kennaston were seated nottwenty feet from the summer-house, on the bench which Miss Hugonin hadjust left. And when that unprincipled young woman finally rose to herfeet, it must be confessed that it was with a toss of the head andwith the reflection that while to listen wasn't honourable, it wouldat least be very amusing. I grieve to admit it, but with Billy'sscruples she hadn't the slightest sympathy.
Then Kennaston cried, suddenly: "Why, you're mad, Kathleen! Woodswants to marry _you!_ Why, he's heels over head in love with MissHugonin!"
Miss Hugonin turned to Mr. Woods with a little intake of the breath.
No, I shall not attempt to tell you what Billy saw in
her countenance.Timanthes-like, I drape before it the vines of the summer-house. Fora brief space I think we had best betake ourselves outside,leaving Margaret in a very pitiable state of anger, and shame, andhumiliation, and heartbreak--leaving poor Billy with a heart thatached, seeing the horror of him in her face.