CHAPTER XXXVI.
A KISS.
As she sped fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her played, Blowing the ringlets from the braid; She looked so lovely as she swayed The rein with dainty finger-tips.
A man had given all other bliss And all his worldly worth for this: To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
When Mrs. Vereker suggested Desvoeux's temporary deposition, sheoverlooked two obstacles which proved fatal to the scheme's success: inthe first place, Maud did not quite wish to depose him; in the next,Desvoeux had not the slightest intention of being deposed. Despite allhints to stay away, he presented himself with provoking regularity atMrs. Vereker's cottage-porch, outstayed later callers without the leastcompunction, and evidently felt himself quite master of the situation.
At Maud's first symptom of neglect he was more devoted, more assiduous,more amusing than ever. Both ladies were constrained in their hearts toadmit that his presence was a great enlivenment. Maud, though she wouldnot have admitted it to herself, felt sometimes impatient for hisarrival. She had given Desvoeux to understand that his attentions wereunwelcome, but she had not the least wish that he should becomeinattentive. As the French song says--
Lorsque l'on dit, 'Ne m'aimez plus jamais,' On pretend bien qu'on obeira, mais On compte un peu sur des revoltes.
So Maud, when she tried to keep Desvoeux at a distance, probably onlymade it apparent how much she liked him to be near; at any rate, theattempt at a little quarrel had only the result of making them betterfriends than before. Then there was a sort of familiarity about himwhich Maud was conscious of only half-disliking. Mrs. Vereker declaredshe had not breathed a word; but something in his look, when he spoke ofMrs. Fotheringham, convinced Maud that he had heard of her unluckyspeech to that lady. When she rode with some one else she was sure tomeet him, looking the picture of dulness. She knew that if they had beentogether they would be both having the greatest fun. And then how flatand what a bore her own companion seemed! One day she did actually gofor a ride with General Beau. Mrs. Vereker asked him afterwards howthey had got on, and the General arched his brow and said, 'Ah!' in amanner which suggested that he had not altogether liked it. Then, oneday, in a pet, Maud went out alone, saying, 'No one can find fault withme for _this_.' Alas! alas! she was sauntering along in the mostdisconsolate manner, when, round a corner of the hill, who should comesauntering along but Desvoeux, also alone and disconsolate and in thedirest need of a companion! Of course under such circumstances there wasnothing to be done but for Desvoeux to turn his pony round and accompanyher for the rest of the expedition; and then, no sooner had they donethis, than, as bad luck would have it, they came upon all the peoplewhom they particularly did not wish to meet--first the Fotheringhams,the mamma and two young ladies in palanquins, a nice young civilianescorting each; Fotheringham _pere_ on his pony, bringing up therear--in order, as Desvoeux said scornfully, to cut off retreat if theyoung men's hearts failed them.
'If that is courtship _a la mode_,' he said, 'Heaven preserve us! Fancyfour parental eyes glaring at every act! My love is a sensitive plantand would shrink up at every look.'
Maud, however, felt that it was no joke, and was very much provoked withDesvoeux. She was in the act of turning back to join the Fotheringhams.
'Don't, pray don't,' said Desvoeux; '_qui s'excuse s'accuse_. Why don'tthe two young gentlemen come and ask to be allowed to walk with us andbe taken care of? If only we could _afficher_
"MET BY ACCIDENT, UPON OUR HONOUR"
on our backs, and let all the world know how innocent we really are!'
And next, before Maud had at all recovered her equanimity, a turn in theroad brought them face to face with all the Government Houseparty--ladies and ponies and aides-de-camp in attendance, and, last ofall, the Viceroy himself, with a big stick and wide-awake hat. 'Ah! howd'ye do, Mrs. Sutton?' he said, looking, Maud fancied, not near sogood-humoured as of old and taking no notice of Desvoeux; 'I hope youhave good accounts of your husband?'
'Yes, very good, thank you, Lord Clare,' Maud said, blushing at aquestion which seemed to convey a reproach to her guilty conscience, andat the thought of how little her husband had been present to her mind oflate. Altogether, Maud's attempt at a solitary ride turned out athorough failure.
Then came the picnic, and Maud, it must be confessed, behaved like alittle idiot.
'The best way to treat gossip,' Desvoeux suggested, 'is to ignore it andshow the world that you have nothing to be ashamed of.' By way ofenforcing his doctrine he proceeded to monopolise her in the mostoutrageous manner; nor did she refuse to be monopolised. When otherpeople came and tried to talk to her Desvoeux stood by and contrived tomake them feel themselves _de trop_. He put poor Boldero, who flatteredhimself that his afternoon's sermon was to bear good fruit, utterly tothe rout; insulted General Beau by some absurd question about theCarraway Islands; put all the aides-de-camp to flight; and, even whenthe Viceroy came by and stopped to speak to Maud, seemed to consider ita very great intrusion.
'Really, Mr. Desvoeux,' Maud said, with a laugh, 'you give yourself allthe airs of a jealous husband.'
'I only wish,' said her companion, 'you had ever given me the chance ofbeing one. But don't these people bore one? I don't feel a bit inclinedto-day to be bored.'
'No more do I,' said Maud, 'but I feel very cross with you all the same.Let us go and sit by the Fotheringhams.'
'Please do not,' said Desvoeux; 'here is a delightful nook, with asmooth stone for your table, and the stream making too much noise forany one to overhear us. It was evidently intended for you and me.'
So all the world had the opportunity, at lunch, of witnessing Desvoeuxin the act of adoration; and Desvoeux, if he would let no one else havea chance of talking, had, Maud felt, plenty to say himself. It wasindiscreet, but very pleasant. Even Mrs. Vereker grew alarmed, andmaking an excuse to pass close by them, came and whispered in Maud's eara solemn 'Don't!'
'Don't what?' said Maud in ill-affected wonderment.
'Don't be a goose,' said her companion; 'Mr. Desvoeux, would you begood-natured and go and fetch me some ice-pudding, while I sit and talkto Mrs. Sutton?'
'With pleasure,' said Desvoeux, smothering his resentment as best hecould; 'but where am I to sit when I come back?'
'You need not come back for half-an-hour,' said Mrs. Vereker quietly;'go and talk with some one else. I see I must keep you young people bothin order.'
Desvoeux went off in dudgeon, and Mrs. Vereker lost no time in supplyinghis place. 'Ah, Mr. Boldero!' she said, 'come and be amusing, please,and give us the latest news from Dustypore.'
For once in his life Boldero thought Mrs. Vereker very nice.
'Be amusing!' thought Maud; 'why does not she ask him to fly to the moonat once? Only Mr. Desvoeux can be that.'
And so it proved. Even Mrs. Vereker could not make conversation go.Boldero was stiff, uncordial and ill at ease. Maud was vexed, and didnot care to conceal it. It was a relief when General Beau appeared, andMaud, in a pet, asked him to take her to the waterfall.
The General, who had been intending to perform the pilgrimage with Mrs.Vereker, did not betray that he was disconcerted, and professed hisdelight at the suggestion.
'But,' said Maud, 'can we trust those two naughty people together? Mydear Mrs. Vereker, "Don't!"'
'Is not she growing saucy?' Mrs. Vereker said to Boldero; 'it is allyour fault; all you gentlemen conspire to spoil her.'
'No,' said Boldero,'begging your pardon, it is all your fault. You letone of us have it all his own way. You encourage him to flirt, andencourage her to encourage him. It is a shame, Mrs. Vereker; in anotherfortnight her reputation will be gone.'
'Fiddlededee!' cried Mrs. Vereker. 'See what jealousy will do! You mightas well accuse me of flirting with you, and every one knows that I am asaint.'
'A very pretty one and in a very pretty dress,' said Boldero, whom Mrs.Vereker's violet eyes always t
hrew off his balance in about two minutes.
'No, thank you,' she said, tossing her shapely head in pretty scorn, 'Idon't want any flattery; we are too old friends. My dress is lovely, Iam well aware, and it has pleased God to make me not quite a fright. Butabout Maud, now: don't you know that all the gossip is simple envy; somehorrid unkind old woman like Mrs. Fotheringham, with about as much heartas one of these rocks, and her two hoydens of girls? But here comesMajor Fenton, who has, I consider, quite neglected me to-day.'
Major Fenton was one of the hosts, and the most eligible of the trio.
'Impossible!' he said, melting under the sweet smile from a stern,languid air which he wore to all the world; 'the duties of my dayperformed, its pleasures are now, I hope, about to begin. Will you comewith me to the waterfall?'
Mrs. Vereker bent two soft orbs on Boldero with a reproachful look, asif to say, 'Why did you not ask me sooner?' and went off in glee withthe Major; and Boldero, left in solitude to his own meditations,mentally voted this the dullest, flattest, and most unsuccessful picnicat which it had ever been his ill-luck to be a guest.
When Maud and General Beau arrived at the waterfall, there, of course,was Desvoeux, trying to encourage the Miss Fotheringhams to cross thestream and so ascend to the finest point of view. This was a little morethan the Miss Fotheringhams' nerves were equal to: the stream was fulland foamed and tossed itself into an angry crest; the water looked blackand swift and treacherous. You had to jump on to one boulder, thenbalance yourself on three stepping-stones through the shallows, thenmake one good spring to the rock opposite, and the feat was done! This,however, was just too much for the Miss Fotheringhams, who had not beentrained in athletics and were not naturally what the Irishmen call'leppers.' As they were hesitating and refusing, Maud and the Generalcame up, looking very much bored. Maud had been finding her companionalmost intolerable, and would have jumped _anywhere_ to be free of him.There was nothing in it: Desvoeux had been skipping across half-a-dozentimes. 'Look,' he said, 'a skip, two hops and a jump, and there you are!Do try. Don't you see?'
'I see, exactly,' said Maud, gathering up her petticoats and giving herparasol to General Beau.
'Stop! it is not safe,' he cried; 'stop, I implore; the rocks areslippery, the water is deep. I implore, I beseech, I command!'
But the General might as well have commanded the stream to stop, forMaud was gone, and in about two seconds was standing, flushed, beautifuland triumphant, on the opposite side.
'If you will not come with us,' said Desvoeux, calling to the people onthe other side, 'we must go up to the Point without you. General Beauwill, I am sure, take care of the Miss Fotheringhams.'
'A most wilful girl,' thought the General, 'and dull, but a fine jumper,and feet and ankles quite perfection.'
Maud, when she got across the stream, had passed a moral Rubicon; sheleft propriety, prudence, and prudishness on the other side with theGeneral and the Miss Fotheringhams.
Desvoeux was in the greatest glee at the result which had come about. 'Iwish the General had tried and tumbled in,' he said, 'and got aducking.'
'Oh,' cried Maud, 'what a dreadful man he is, with his shrugs and his"Ahs!" How lucky that you came to save me!'
'And you to save me,' said her companion; 'I was having a sad time of itwith the Fotheringham girls. What a thing it is to have a deliverer!'
'But,' said Maud, 'I think the younger one is looking very pretty. Youknow you used to love her. What lovely hair!'
'Yes,' said the other. 'Hair
So young and yellow, crowning sanctity, And claiming solitude: can hair be false?'
'It can,' exclaimed Maud; 'Mrs. Blunt showed me two large coils, whichhad arrived from Douglas' in her last box from Europe. When one has adiamond tiara I suppose one must have hair to put it in, _coute quicoute_.'
'Mrs. Blunt and her eternal tiara!' cried Desvoeux; 'like the toad andadversity, ugly and venemous, she wears a precious jewel in her head.But is not this lovely? Look at the rainbow in the foam and the deepgreen of the ferns beside it. Was it not worth a jump?'
'Was not _what_ worth a jump?' said Maud, with one of her prettyblushes.
'If only,' cried Desvoeux, 'there was somewhere we could jump to, whereI could have you all for my very own! But see, here is the SpeakingRock; call out something now and see how it will answer you.'
'Hoop!' cried Maud, and 'Hoop!' answered the steep crag opposite, andMaud, in a mood to be pleased with everything, was quite delighted.'Hoop, hie!' she cried again, and all the hillside seemed to echo to herjoyful tones.
'See,' cried Desvoeux, 'you have waked the Genius of the Mountain. Ifyou called long enough the nymphs would come and dance and crown you fora rural queen, the fairest that Arcadia ever saw!'
'Now,' said Maud, quite breathless with her calls, 'shout out something,Mr. Desvoeux, and see what the mountain nymphs will have to say to you.'
'No,' Desvoeux said sentimentally, 'the nymphs would answer nothing: myvoice is too rough to please them. Besides I know by experience it is myfate to call and call, and rocks and other things just as hard will giveme no response.'
'Indeed,' said Maud, 'I think they answer quite as much as is good foryou.'
'Our echoes,' cried Desvoeux, turning suddenly upon her and speakingwith a vehemence that was only half in play--
'Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever----'
'And ever and ever,' laughed Maud. 'Well, now, it is high time that theystopped growing for the present. Come, Mr. Desvoeux, let us get backbefore our dear friends have torn us quite to pieces.'
Maud came back in great spirits and made a public laugh at General Beaufor his desertion of her.
'"The rocks are slippery, the water is deep!"' she cried, taking him offto his face with great success, '"I implore, I entreat, I command"; butI don't jump! O faithless, faithless General Beau!'
The General was not in the least disconcerted. 'Ah!' he said, in hisusual mysterious way; and everybody felt that he could have jumped if hehad chosen, but that he had some particular reason for not choosing todo so.
Then the party reassembled for tea and they played at games. Some oneproposed 'What is my thought like?'
'Delightful!' cried Maud. 'General Beau, what is my thought like, pray?'
'Like?' said the General, quite unprepared for such sudden demands onhis conversational powers, 'it is like yourself, no doubt.'
'Enough, enough!' cried Maud. 'Now, then, please say how wit, which ismy word, and I are like each other?'
'Ah!' said the General, as if to imply that he mentally perceived theresemblance; 'because, because'----
'Because,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'you are both to "madness near allied."'
'Or because,' said Desvoeux, cutting in with great promptitude, '"truewit is nature to advantage dressed;" and so, I am sure, is Mrs. Sutton.'
'Very nice!' cried Maud, glowing with pleasure; 'now, General Beau, youmust pay forfeit, you know. I will give you a bad one for deserting meso cruelly.'
'Forfeits!' said Desvoeux, 'spare us, spare us--they are too fatiguing.'
'Not a bit,' said Maud, 'you bow to what is wisest, and kneel to what isprettiest, and kiss what you love best.'
'Well, then,' said Desvoeux, kissing his hand sentimentally and blowingit into the air, 'there is a kiss for what I love best, wherever it maybe.'
'Dear me,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'what a touching idea! There goes mykiss.'
'And,' cried Maud, laughing and kissing the tips of her pretty fingers,'there goes mine! What a state the air will be in! But here comes MajorFenton with a plate of plumcake, which is what I love best; so my kissis for that!'
'Happy plumcake!' said the Major, gallantly, 'to be loved, eaten andkissed by a mouth so fair.'
'Give me a bit too, Fenton,' said Desvoeux; 'I must eat some forsympathy, though it is not what I love best.'
Then the quiet valley shadows crept about them, and it grew sad andsombre; and while they sat and talked
and laughed, the day was done andall steps were turned towards home.
So Maud and Desvoeux found themselves travelling home together in themoonlight and falling behind the crowd of riders, to enjoy, undisturbed,the pleasure of a _tete-a-tete_. One of the great dangers of the Hillsis that the paths admit only of two people riding abreast; the _terzoincomodo_ must ride behind, and might, so far as prudence is concerned,just as well not be there at all. No such inconvenient intruder,however, threatened Desvoeux's enjoyment of the present occasion oraided the faltering monitions which Maud's half-silenced consciencewhispered to her. Her nerves were overstrung, and the excessiveloveliness of the scene seemed only to add to her excitement. Along thewinding path which crept up the mountain-side, and through the darkgreen forest-trees towering sublimely over them and all ablaze inmoonlit patches with silver floods of light, their journey took them.Far away, miles below, a hundred tiny sparks showed where the villagerswere cooking the evening meal; across the valley, on the opposite side,a great streak of woodland was blazing, scarcely seen by day, but now aruddy lurid glow in the white light that lit up all the scene around. Inthe horizon was the great, cold, snowy range, standing out hard andclear in the moonlight--still, majestic, awful. How sweet, how bright,how exhilarating to a heart so prompt for enjoyment, senses so quicklyimpressible, nerves so alive to every surrounding influence as Maud's!Again and again she burst into exclamations of pleasure as each turn inthe road brought them to some new scene of enchantment.
'Let us stop,' she cried, 'I must get off and sit down here and enjoythis in peace.'
'Let us walk a little,' said Desvoeux, 'and send our ponies on to awaitus at the half-way point. Are you too tired?'
'I am not a bit tired,' Maud said, glowing with pleasure; 'it is toolovely to think of it. This is the best of all the day's pleasures.'
'It is lovely,' said her companion, 'but to me its greatest charm isthat I have you to myself.'
'Well,' said Maud, who was accustomed to pulling up Desvoeux when hebecame inconveniently sentimental, 'we have had a delightful day andgreat fun. I wish we had had the forfeits all the same and made GeneralBeau do something nice. You stopped it all, Mr. Desvoeux, by being soidle. Why did you blow your kiss into the air?'
'It was the only thing I could do with it,' said Desvoeux, 'and see--ithas alighted on your cheek!'
'And _that_ on your arm,' cried Maud, wielding her whip with a suddenvehemence which made Desvoeux feel that his kiss had been, at any rate,well paid for; 'when I want to be kissed I will tell you; but norobberies!'
'You little spitfire!' said Desvoeux, rubbing his shoulder with a comicair.
'Well,' said Maud, suddenly repentant, and trying her whip across herknee, 'it _does_ hurt, I confess. I beg your pardon. You deserved it,however, and I was in a passion at the moment. Do you forgive me?'
She gave him her hand--that little, delicate, exquisitely-fashionedpiece of Nature's workmanship, which Desvoeux had often vowed was themost beautiful thing in India. Its very touch electrified him.
'Forgive you?' he said, with a sudden sadness in his voice; 'you hurt meonce in good earnest, and I forgave you that, and do forgive it, but ithurts me still.'
Desvoeux's voice trembled with feeling. Something in his look struckMaud with a sudden pang of pity, sympathy, remorse. Was Desvoeux thenreally suffering, and his life darkened on account of her? A sudden rushof sentiment streamed across her soul, carrying everything before it. Apassionate, irresistible impulse possessed her. She stooped towardshim, bent her cheek, flushed with excitement, to his, pressed to his thelips on which Desvoeux's thoughts had dwelt a hundred times inimpassioned reverie, and kissed him with a long, sweet, earnest caress,the sudden outburst of gratitude, tenderness, regret.
Desvoeux said not a word, but he still kept possession of her hand, andthe two stood looking silently across the misty valley and the precipicethat fell away at their feet into solemn gloom below. The tramp of ahorse's feet was heard behind them and Boldero came trotting innocentlyup the path.
'We are walking home,' Maud said, 'the night is so delicious. You mayget off and come with us, if you please.'
Boldero, who would have jumped over the mountain-side if Maud had biddenhim, at once dismounted. Desvoeux fell behind, and said not one wordduring the rest of the homeward journey.