James Matthew Barrie - The Complete Works of J. M. Barrie (With Illustrations)

'Does that mean,' asked Dick, 'that you object to being sent back again to the spring?'

'Ah, I forgot,' said Sir Clement. 'You may depend on me this time.'

He seized the pail once more, glad to get away by himself to some place where he could denounce his stupidity unheard, but Mrs. Meredith would not let him go. As for Mary, she was looking so haughty now that no one would have dared to mention the pail again.

During the meal Dick felt compelled to talk so much that he was unusually dull company for the remainder of the week. The others were only genial now and again. Sir Clement sought in vain to gather from Mary's eyes that she had forgiven him for making the rest of the party couple him and her in their thoughts. Mrs. Meredith would have liked to take her daughter aside and discuss the situation, and Nell was looking covertly at Rob, who, she thought, bore it bravely. Rob had lately learned carving from a handbook, and was dissecting a fowl, murmuring to himself, 'Cut from a to b along the line f g , taking care to sever the wing at the point k .' Like all the others, he thought that Mary had promised to be the baronet's wife, and Nell's heart palpitated for him when she saw how gently he passed Sir Clement the mustard. Such a load lay on Rob that he felt suffocated. Nell noticed indignantly that Mary was not even 'nice' to him. For the first time in her life, or at least for several weeks, Miss Meredith was wroth with Miss Abinger. Mary might have been on the rack, but she went on proudly eating bread and chicken. Relieved of his fears, Dick raged internally at Mary for treating Angus cruelly, and Nell, who had always dreaded lest things should not go as they had gone, sat sorrowfully because she had not been disappointed. They all knew how much they cared for Rob now, all except Mary of the stony heart.

Sir Clement began to tell some travellers' tales, omitting many things that were creditable to his bravery, and Rob found himself listening with a show of interest, wondering a little at his own audacity in competing with such a candidate. By and by some members of the little party drifted away from the others, and an accident left Mary and Rob together. Mary was aimlessly plucking the berries from a twig in her hand, and all the sign she gave that she knew of Rob's presence was in not raising her head. If love is ever unselfish his was at that moment. He took a step forward, and then Mary, starting back, looked round hurriedly in the direction of Sir Clement. What Rob thought was her meaning flashed through him, and he stood still in pain.

'I am sorry you think so meanly of me,' he said, and passed on. He did not see Mary's arms rise involuntarily, as if they would call him back. But even then she did not realise what Rob's thoughts were. A few yards away Rob, moving blindly, struck against Dick.

'Ah, I see Mary there,' her brother said, 'I want to speak to her. Why, how white you are, man!'

'Abinger,' Rob answered hoarsely, 'tell me. I must know. Is she engaged to Dowton?'

Dick hesitated. He felt sore for Rob. 'Yes, she is,' he replied. 'You remember I spoke of this to you before.' Then Dick moved on to have it out with Mary. She was standing with the twig in her hand, just as Rob had left her.

'Mary,' said her brother bluntly, 'this is too bad. I would have expected it from any one sooner than from you.'

'What are you talking about?' asked Mary frigidly.

'I am talking about Angus, my friend. Yes, you may smile, but it is not play to him.'

'What have I done to your friend?' said Mary, looking Dick in the face.

'You have crushed the life for the time being out of as fine a fellow as I ever knew. You might at least have amused yourself with some one a little more experienced in the ways of women.'

'How dare you, Dick!' exclaimed Mary, stamping her foot. All at once Dick saw that though she spoke bravely her lips were trembling. A sudden fear seized him.

'I presume that you are engaged to Dowton?' he said quickly.

'It is presumption certainly,' replied Mary.

'Why, what else could any one think after that ridiculous affair of the water?'

'I shall never forgive him for that,' Mary said, flushing.

'But he——'

'No. Yes, he did, but we are not engaged.'

'You mean to say that you refused him?'

'Yes.'

Dick thought it over, tapping the while on a tree-trunk like a woodpecker.

'Why?' he asked at last.

Mary shrugged her shoulders, but said nothing.

'You seemed exceedingly friendly,' said Dick, 'when you returned here together.'

'I suppose,' Mary said bitterly, 'that the proper thing in the circumstances would have been to wound his feelings unnecessarily as much as possible?'

'Forgive me, dear,' Dick said kindly; 'of course I misunderstood—but this will be a blow to our father.'

Mary looked troubled.

'I could not marry him, you know, Dick,' she faltered.

'Certainly not,' Dick said, 'if you don't care sufficiently for him; and yet he seems a man that a girl might care for.'

'Oh, he is,' Mary exclaimed. 'He was so manly and kind that I wanted to be nice to him.'

'You have evidently made up your mind, sister mine,' Dick said, 'to die a spinster.'

'Yes,' said Mary, with a white face.

Suddenly Dick took both her hands, and looked her in the face.

'Do you care for any other person, Mary?' he asked sharply.

Mary shook her head, but she did not return her brother's gaze. Her hands were trembling. She tried to pull them from him, but he held her firmly until she looked at him. Then she drew up her head proudly. Her hands ceased to shake. She had become marble again.

Dick was not deceived. He dropped her hands, and leant despondently against a tree.

'Angus——' he began.

'You must not,' Mary cried; and he stopped abruptly.

'It is worse than I could have feared,' Dick said.

'No, it is not,' said Mary quickly. 'It is nothing. I don't know what you mean.'

'It was my fault bringing you together. I should have been more——'

'No, it was not. I met him before. Whom are you speaking about?'

'Think of our father, Mary.'

'Oh, I have!'

'He is not like you. How could he dare——'

'Dick, don't.'

Will bounced towards them with a hop, step, and jump, and Mrs. Meredith was signalling that she wanted both.

'Never speak of this again,' Mary said in a low voice to Dick as they walked toward the others.

'I hope I shall never feel forced to do so,' Dick replied.

'You will not,' Mary said, in her haste. 'But, Dick,' she added anxiously, 'surely the others did not think what you thought? It would be so unpleasant for Sir Clement.'

'Well, I can't say,' Dick answered.

'At all events, he did not?'

'Who is he?'

'Oh, Dick, I mean Mr. Angus?'

Dick bit his lip, and would have replied angrily; but perhaps he loved this sister of his more than any other person in the world.

'Angus, I suppose, noticed nothing,' he answered, in order to save Mary pain, 'except that you and Dowton seemed very good friends.'

Dick knew that this was untrue. He did not remember then that the good-natured lies live for ever like the others.

Evening came on before they returned to the river, and Sunbury, now blazing with fireworks, was shooting flaming arrows at the sky. The sweep of water at the village was one broad bridge of boats, lighted by torches and Chinese lanterns of every hue. Stars broke overhead, and fell in showers. It was only possible to creep ahead by pulling in the oars and holding on to the stream of craft of all kinds that moved along by inches. Rob, who was punting Dick and Mary, had to lay down his pole and adopt the same tactics, but boat and punt were driven apart, and soon tangled hopelessly in different knots.