'I like you for that,' she replied laughing, 'and withdraw the epithet as not being applicable. Now we are quits and can forget and forgive;--only let there be the forgetting.'
'Never!' said Dolly, with his hand again on his heart.
'Then let it be a little dream of your youth,--that you once met a pretty American girl who was foolish enough to refuse all that you would have given her.'
'So pretty! So awfully pretty!' Thereupon she curtsied. 'I have seen all the handsome woman in England going for the last ten years, and there has not been one who has made me think that it would be worth me while to get off my perch for her.'
'And now you would desert your perch for me?'
'I have already.'
'But you can get up again. Let it be all a dream. I know men like to have had such dreams. And in order that the dream may be pleasant the last word between us shall be kind. Such admiration from such a one as you is an honour,--and I will reckon it among my honours. But it can be no more than a dream.' Then she gave him her hand. 'It shall be so;--shall it not?' Then she paused. 'It must be so, Mr Longstaff.'
'Must it?'
'That and no more. Now I wish to go down. Will you come with me?
It will be better. Don't you think it is going to rain?'
Dolly looked up at the clouds. 'I wish it would with all my heart.'
'I know you are not so ill-natured. It would spoil it all.'
'You have spoiled all.'
'No, no. I have spoiled nothing. It will only be a little dream about "that strange American girl, who really did make me feel queer for half an hour". Look at that. A great big drop--and the cloud has come over us as black as Erebus. Do hurry down.' He was leading the way. 'What shall we do for carriages to get us to the inn?'
'There's the summer-house.'
'It will hold about half of us. And think what it will be to be in there waiting till the rain shall be over! Everybody has been so good-humoured and now they will be so cross!'
The rain was falling in big heavy drops, slow and far between, but almost black with their size. And the heaviness of the cloud which had gathered over them made everything black.
'Will you have my arm?' said Silverbridge, who saw Miss Boncassen scudding along, with Dolly Longstaff following as fast as he could.
'Oh dear no. I have got to mind my dress. There;--I have gone right into a puddle. Oh dear!' So she ran on, and Silverbridge followed close behind her, leaving Dolly Longstaff in the distance.
It was not only Miss Boncassen who got her feet into a puddle and splashed her stockings. Many did so who were not obliged by their position to maintain good-humour under misfortunes. The storm had come on with such unexpected quickness that there had been a general stampede to the summer-house. As Isabel had said, there was comfortable room for not more than half of them. In a few minutes people were crushed who never ought to be crushed. A Countess for whom treble-piled sofas were hardly good enough was seated on the corner of a table till some younger and less gorgeous lady could be made to give way. And the Marchioness was declaring she was as wet through as though she had been dragged in a river. Mrs Boncassen was so absolutely quelled as to have retired into the kitchen attached to the summer-house. Mr Boncassen, with all his country's pluck and pride, was proving to a knot of gentlemen round him on the verandah, that such treachery in the weather was a thing unknown in his happier country. Miss Boncassen had to do her best to console the splashed ladies. 'Oh Mrs Jones, is it not a pity! What can I do for you?'
'We must bear it, my dear. It often does rain, but why on this special day should it come down in buckets?'
'I never was so wet in all my life,' said Dolly Longstaff, poking in his head.
'There's somebody smoking,' said the Countess angrily. There was a crowd of men smoking out on the verandah. 'I never knew anything so nasty,' the Countess continued, leaving it in doubt whether she spoke of the rain, or the smoke, or the party generally.
Damp gauzes, splashed stockings, trampled muslins, and features which have perhaps known something of rouge and certainly encountered something of rain may be made, but can only, by supreme high breeding, be made compatible with good-humour. To be moist, muddy, rumpled and smeared, when by the very nature of your position it is your duty to be clear-starched up to the pellucidity of crystal, to be spotless as the lily, to be crisp as the ivy-leaf, and as clear in complexion as a rose,--is it not, O gentle readers, felt to be a disgrace? It came to pass, therefore, that many were now very cross. Carriages were ordered under the idea that some improvement might be made at the inn which was nearly a mile distant. Very few, however, had their own carriages, and there was jockeying for the vehicles. In the midst of all this Silverbridge remained near to Miss Boncassen as circumstances would admit. 'You are not waiting for me,' she said.
'Yes I am. We might as well go up to town together.'
'Leave me with father and mother. Like the captain of a ship, I must be the last to leave the wreck.'
'But I'll be the gallant sailor of the day, who always at the risk of his life sticks to the skipper to the last moment.'
'Not at all;--just because there will be no gallantry. But come and see us tomorrow and find out whether we have got through it alive.
