Face to face they stood, while at the vision of her sweetness his heart grew still. Face to face, and the faint light fell upon her tender loveliness and died in her deep eyes, and the faint breeze fragrant with the breath of pines gently stirred her hair. Oh, it was worth living to see her thus!
"I beg your pardon," she said in a puzzled tone, stepping forward to pass the gate.
"/Beatrice!/"
She gave a little cry, and clutched the railing, else she would have fallen. One moment she stayed so, looking up towards his face that was hid in the deepening shadow--looking with wild eyes of hope and fear and love.
"Is it you," she said at length, "or another dream?""It is I, Beatrice!" he answered, amazed.
She recovered herself with an effort.
"Then why did you frighten me so?" she asked. "It was unkind--oh, Idid not mean to say anything cross. What did I say? I forget. I am so glad that you have come!" and she put her hand to her forehead and looked at him again as one might gaze at a ghost from the grave.
"Did you not expect me?" Geoffrey asked.
"Expect you? no. No more than I expected----" and she stopped suddenly.
"It is very odd," he said; "I thought you knew that your father was going to ask me down. I returned from London with him.""From London," she murmured. "I did not know; Elizabeth did not tell me anything about it. I suppose that she forgot.""Here I am at any rate, and how are you?"
"Oh, well now, quite well. There, I am all right again. It is very wrong to frighten people in that way, Mr. Bingham," she added in her usual voice. "Let me pass through the gate and I will shake hands with you--if," she added, in a tone of gentle mockery, "one may shake hands with so great a man. But I told you how it would be, did I not, just before we were drowned together, you know? How is Effie?""Effie flourishes," he answered. "Do you know, you do not look very grand. Your father told me that you had a cold in the winter," and Geoffrey shivered as he thought of the cause.
"Oh, thank you, I have nothing to complain of. I am strong and well.
How long do you stay here?"
"Not long. Perhaps till Tuesday morning, perhaps till Monday."Beatrice sighed. Happiness is short. She had not brought him here, she would not have lifted a finger to bring him here, but since he had come she wished that he was going to stay longer.
"It is supper time," she said; "let us go in."So they went in and ate their supper. It was a happy meal. Mr. Granger was in almost boisterous spirits. It is wonderful what a difference the possession of that two hundred pounds made in his demeanour; he seemed another man. It was true that a hundred of it must go in paying debts, but a hundred would be left, which meant at least a year's respite for him. Elizabeth, too, relaxed her habitual grimness; the two hundred pounds had its influence on her also, and there were other genial influences at work in her dark secret heart. Beatrice knew nothing of the money and sat somewhat silent, but she too was happy with the wild unreal happiness that sometimes visits us in dreams.
As for Geoffrey, if Lady Honoria could have seen him she would have stared in astonishment. Of late he had been a very silent man, many people indeed had found him a dull companion. But under the influence of Beatrice's presence he talked and talked brilliantly. Perhaps he was unconsciously striving to show at his very best before her, as a man naturally does in the presence of a woman whom he loves. So brilliantly did he talk that at last they all sat still and listened to him, and they might have been worse employed.
At length supper was done, and Elizabeth retired to her room.
Presently, too, Mr. Granger was called out to christen a sick baby and went grumbling, and they were left alone. They sat in the window-place and looked out at the quiet night.
"Tell me about yourself," said Beatrice.
So he told her. He narrated all the steps by which he had reached his present position, and showed her how from it he might rise to the topmost heights of all. She did not look at him, and did not answer him, but once when he paused, thinking that he had talked enough about himself, she said, "Go on; tell me some more."At last he had told her all.
"Yes," she said, "you have the power and the opportunity, and you will one day be among the foremost men of your generation.""I doubt it," he said with a sigh. "I am not ambitious. I only work for the sake of work, not for what it will bring. One day I daresay that I shall weary of it all and leave it. But while I do work, I like to be among the first in my degree.""Oh, no," she answered, "you must not give it up; you must go on and on. Promise me," she continued, looking at him for the first time--"promise me that while you have health and strength you will persevere till you stand alone and quite pre-eminent. Then you can give it up.""Why should I promise you this, Beatrice?"
"Because I ask it of you. Once I saved your life, Mr. Bingham, and it gives me some little right to direct its course. I wish that the man whom I saved to the world should be among the first men in the world, not in wealth, which is an accident, but in intellect and force.
Promise me this and I shall be happy."
"I promise you," he said, "I promise that I will try to rise because you ask it, not because the prospect attracts me; but as he spoke his heart was wrung. It was bitter to hear her speak thus of a future in which she would have no share, which, as her words implied, would be a thing utterly apart from her, as much apart as though she were dead.
