have."
"Should I ask for information which I had already?" he questionedcoolly. "Information moreover which is presumably hardly creditable tomyself. What is the something, please?"
Jill looked at him coldly, but he bore her scrutiny well. He was grave,but he certainly did not appear apprehensive, nor was he in the leastembarrassed or perturbed.
"What is the something?" he repeated. "I think I have a right to know."
But Jill seemed to find a difficulty in answering, or a disinclinationto do so; for she drew herself up and remained silent, an angry spot ofcolour in either cheek. St. John tapped the floor impatiently with hisboot.
"Come, come," he cried, "this is childish to accuse a fellow of somepossibly imaginary wrong, and not give him the chance of refuting it.What heinous offence do you fancy me guilty of? Robbing a bank? Ihaven't I assure you."
He was turning her doubts of him to ridicule which only angered her themore. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes and his moustachetwitched ever so slightly.
"What! sceptical of that even?" he continued ironically. "So it's myhonesty that's called into question, eh?"
"Yes," Jill flashed back with a fierceness born of wounded pride, "yourhonesty, Mr St. John. Is it honest of you to come and make love to me?No, you know it is not, it is dishonourable, despicable--"
"Stop a bit," he interrupted with a quietness and control whichsurprised himself; "don't let us lose ourselves in a labyrinth ofadjectives, and so get away from the main subject altogether. Why is itdishonourable for me to make love to you? For, though you will insistto the contrary, I am absolutely ignorant of any prohibitive reason."
"That is impossible," Jill replied, and he flushed at her want of faithin his veracity. "But as you are determined to keep your counsel untilyou discover how much I know I had better speak out I suppose. You arenot free to propose matrimony to me."
St. John's eyebrows went up with a jerk.
"Indeed!" he said. "Your statement is news to me, so also is the verylow idea you have formed of my character. In what way am I not free?Do you mean that there is someone else?"
Jill nodded; she could find no words.
"And the lady's name?" he questioned in peremptory tones.
"Miss Bolton," she answered with a visible effort. "I have recentlylearnt from unquestionable authority that you have been engaged to yourcousin for some months."
St. John started, pulled thoughtfully at his moustache for a moment, andthen looking up sharply,--
"The name of your informant?" he asked.
"Never mind that," Jill answered, "my informant was in a position toknow. I have tried to but cannot doubt the assertion."
"And yet you seem to find it easy enough to doubt mine," he said.
She made no reply; and striding up to her he caught her by the shouldersand transfixed her with a gaze at once stern and reproachful.
"Speak," he exclaimed. "I will know who is the lying, interferingmischief-maker who has spread such abominable reports about me."
Jill swayed slightly in his grip, and her glance met his in wide-eyedquestioning as though she would read his very soul.
"Ah!" she cried, "if it were false! if it were only false!"
"The name?" he repeated impatiently, and almost shook her in hisexcitement. She hesitated still for a minute, then the answer cameunwillingly, more as though his glance compelled the truth than that shegave it voluntarily.
"It was your father," she half-whispered, and her eyes sought the floorand stayed there as though she dreaded reading what she might see in hisface.
He stared at her for a moment, then he pushed her from him with a laugh.
"Unquestionable authority certainly," he said moodily, and laughedagain. Jill remained motionless watching him, uncertain whether heintended denying the allegation or not, and he stood opposite in atowering rage glowering back at her with his brows drawn together in theold bad-tempered scowl.
"I suppose," he went on after a pause, "that he communicated thisintelligence to you between the time of your writing to me and my firstappearance at the art school after your illness?"
"Yes," she replied, "on the Thursday."
"That accounts for your inexplicable bad temper that Friday," he resumedunpleasantly.
"Information from such a source must certainly have been convincing, farmore convincing than my contradiction. But did it not strike you todoubt the authenticity of the signature?"
"It was a word of mouth communication," Jill answered coldly, "Mr St.John honoured me with a visit."
"He came here?" repeated her hearer aghast. "My father? Impossible!"
"It does sound rather improbable I admit," agreed Jill. "It was goingto a great deal of trouble over a small matter, wasn't it?--when a pennypostage stamp would have done as well. But he seemed more concernedabout it than either you or I. Was it likely, do you think, that Ishould question his statement? Had there been no truth in it why shouldhe have bothered?"
"The only reason I can think of," answered St. John, "was that he merelyanticipated his desire. But for you I can find no excuse, not even oneso flimsy as that. Why should you place perfect reliance on the word ofa man you did not know, and, putting the worse possible construction onmy actions, refuse to give me even the chance of justifying myself?"
"I don't know," retorted Jill ungraciously. "Looked at from your pointof view I suppose it appears monstrous, but from my point it seemsnatural enough. I had no reason to doubt your father's word, and, asyou, yourself, informed me that morning you had never spoken a word oflove to me in your life. There was no necessity for you to mention yourengagement; men not infrequently prefer to conceal the fact from girlsof inferior social standing--"
"Stop," he cried, angrily. "This is too much. I could have forgiventhe rest, but you go too far."
"I didn't know that I had entreated your forgiveness," she said with asmile which mocked his indignation. "`I love every tone of yourvoice,'" she mimicked, "`every fresh mood, wound and vex me though theymay at the time.' You have a strange way of showing your affection, MrSaint John, an admirable way of disguising it, I should say."
St. John looked furious, and his tormentor continued relentlessly.
"Or is it that now it is wounding and vexing you? To-morrow, I suppose,you will be enamoured of all that I have said and done to-day?"
Then, her mood changing abruptly as the love in her heart reproached herfor doubting and vexing him as she had, she went up to the table andburied her face shyly in the flowers he had brought.
"Go away now, my dear Saint," she whispered, "and come to-morrowinstead; for I like you enamoured best."
But St. John was angry still, and not so ready to be propitiated. Hishat lay on the table where he had placed it near the flowers, and Jill'shand rested beside it--her fingers touching the brim, it may have beenby accident though it looked more like design.
"I think I _had_ better go," he agreed, reaching out for it; "youropinion of me is not easy to forget, and--"
He had taken hold of his hat; but Jill's small fingers had closed uponthe brim on the other side, and kept their hold determinedly.
St. John desisted at once; it was incompatible with his dignity tostruggle over his headgear.
"At your pleasure, Miss Erskine," he said.
"It's very strange," mused Jill in a tone of innocent speculation; "doyou know that until to-day I had always considered you handsome? What adifference it makes to a face whether it is smiling or glum."
"One can't keep up a perpetual grin," he retorted, but his countenancerelaxed a little despite his effort to appear unmoved, and seeing heradvantage she followed it up, turning a scene which had been growingpainfully strained into a comedy by her deft handling of the situation.
"No; not unless it is natural to one, which is even a greateraffliction. I once heard of a man who had his nose broken for laughingat a quarrelsome individual in the street. As a matter of fact hewasn't laughing; it w
as only that Nature had endowed him with aperpetual and unavoidable grin. But you are not at all likely to getyour nose broken from a similar cause."
"I should hope not," he returned with disagreeable emphasis.
"Is mine on my face still?" enquired Jill putting up her hand to feel."Why! it actually is. Funny, but I thought you had snapped it off. Itis there, isn't it?"
She went quite close to him and held up her face for inspection with alook in her eyes that St. John would have been more than human, or atany rate not