The Safety Curten, Ethel May Dell [e ink epub reader .TXT] 📗

I should come and fetch you, you know, if you didn't turn up," he said.
She laughed.
"Do you always keep your word?"
"To you--always," he assured her.
Her merry face coloured a little, but she met his eyes with absolute candour.
"And now that you have come what can we do? Are you going to take me on the river? It looks rather dangerous."
"It is dangerous," Brandon said coolly, "but I think I can get you over in safety if you will allow me to try. In any case, I won't let you drown."
"I shall be furious if anything happens," she told him--"if you splash me even. So beware!"
He pushed out from the bank with a laugh. It was evident that her threat did not greatly impress him.
As for Doris, she was evidently enjoying the adventure, and the risks that attended it only added to its charm. There was something about this man that fascinated her, a freedom and a daring to which her own reckless spirit could not fail to respond. He was the most interesting plaything she had had for a long time. She had no fear that he would ever make the mistake of taking her seriously.
They reached the opposite bank in safety, and he handed her ashore with considerable _empressement_.
"I have a confession to make," he said, as they walked up to the house.
"Oh, I know what it is," she returned carelessly. "Mrs. Lockyard did not expect me and has gone out."
He nodded.
"You are taking it awfully well. One would almost think you didn't mind."
She laughed.
"I never mind anything so long as I am not bored."
"Nor do I," said Brandon. "We seem to have a good deal in common. But what puzzles me--"
He broke off. They had reached the open French window that led into Mrs. Lockyard's drawing-room. He stood aside for her to enter.
"Well?" she said, as she passed him. "What is this weighty problem?"
He followed her in.
"What puzzles me," he said, "is how a girl with your natural independence and love of freedom can endure to remain unmarried."
She opened her eyes wide in astonishment.
"My good sir, you have expressed the exact reason in words which could not have been better chosen. Independence, love of freedom, and a very strong preference for going my own way."
He laughed a little.
"Yes, but you would have all these things a thousand times multiplied if you were married.
Look at all the restraints and restrictions to which girls are subjected where married women simply please themselves. Why, you are absolutely hedged round with conventions. You can scarcely go for a ride with a man of your acquaintance in broad daylight without endangering your reputation. What would they say--your cousin and Mrs. Abingdon--if they knew that you were here with me now? They would hold up their hands in horror."
The girl's thoughts flashed suddenly to Caryl. How much freedom might she expect from him?
"It's all very well," she said, with a touch of petulance, "but easy-going husbands don't grow on every gooseberry-bush. I have never yet met the man who wouldn't want to arrange my life in every detail if I married him."
"Yes, you have," said Brandon.
He spoke with deliberate emphasis, and she knew that as he spoke he looked at her in a manner that there could be no mistaking. Her heart quickened a little, and she felt the colour rise in her face.
"Do you know that I am engaged to Vivian Caryl?" she said.
"Perfectly," he answered. "I also know that you have not the smallest intention of marrying him."
She frowned, but did not contradict him.
He continued with considerable assurance:
"He is not the man to make you happy, and I think you know it. My only wonder is that you didn't realize it earlier--before you became engaged to him."
"My engagement was only an experiment," she said quickly.
"And therefore easily broken," he rejoined. "Why don't you put a stop to it?"
She hesitated.
He bent towards her.
"Do you mean to say that he is cad enough to hold you against your will?"
Still she hesitated, half-afraid to speak openly.
He leant nearer; he took her hand.
"My dear child," he said, "don't for Heaven's sake give in to such tyranny as that, and be made miserable for the rest of your life. Oh, I grant you he is the sort of fellow who would make what is called a good husband, but not the sort of husband you want. He would keep you in order, shackle you at every turn. Marry him, and it will be good-bye to liberty--even such liberty as you have now--forever."
Her face had changed. She was very pale.
"I know all that," she said, speaking rapidly, with headlong impulse. "But, don't you see how difficult it is for me? They are all on his side, and he is so horribly strong. Oh, I was a fool I know to accept him. But we were waltzing and it came so suddenly. I never stopped to think. I wish I could get away now, but I can't."
"I can tell you of a way," said Brandon.
She glanced at him.
"Oh, yes, I know. But I can't be engaged to two people at once. I couldn't face it. I detest scenes."
"There need be no scene," he said. "You have only to come to me and give me the right to defend you. I ask for nothing better. Even Caryl would scarcely have the impertinence to dispute it. As my wife you will be absolutely secure from any interference."
She was gazing at him wide-eyed.
"Do you mean a runaway marriage?" she questioned slowly.
He drew nearer still, and possessed himself of her hands.
"Yes, just that," he said. "It would take a little courage, but you have plenty of that. And the rest I would see to. It wouldn't be so very difficult, you know. Mrs. Lockyard would help us, and you would be absolutely safe with me. I haven't much to offer you, I admit. I'm as poor as a church mouse. But at least you would find me"--he smiled into her startled eyes--"a very easy-going husband, I assure you."
"Oh, I don't know!" Doris said. "I don't know!"
Yet still she left her hands in his and still she listened to him. That airy reference of his to his poverty affected her favourably. He would scarcely have made it, she told herself, with an unconscious effort to silence unacknowledged misgivings, if her fortune had been the sole attraction.
"Look here," he said, breaking in upon these hasty meditations, "I don't want you to do anything in a hurry. Take a little while to think it over. Let me know to-morrow. I am not leaving till the evening. You shall do nothing, so far as I am concerned, against your will. I want you, now and always, to do exactly as you like. You believe that?"
"I quite believe you mean it at the present moment," she said with a decidedly doubtful smile.
"It will be so always," said Brandon, "whether you believe it or not."
And with considerable ceremony he raised her hands to his lips and deliberately kissed them. It seemed to Doris at that moment that even so headlong a scheme as this was not without its very material advantages. There were so many drawbacks to being betrothed.


CHAPTER IV
AT CLOSE QUARTERS

When Doris descended to breakfast on the following morning she found an animated party in the dining-room discussing the best means of spending the day. Abingdon himself and most of his guests were in favour of attending an aviation meeting at Wynhampton a few miles away.
Caryl was not present, but as she passed through the hall a little later, he came in at the front door.
"I was just coming to you," he remarked, pausing to flick the ash from his cigarette before closing the door. "I have been making arrangements for you to drive to Wynhampton with me."
Doris made a stiff movement that seemed almost mechanical. But the next moment she recovered her self-control. Why was she afraid of this man, she asked herself desperately? No man had ever managed to frighten her before.
"I think I should prefer to go in the motor," she said, and smiled with quivering lips. "Get Phil to drive with you. He likes the dog-cart better than I do."
"I have talked it over with him," Caryl responded gravely. "He agrees with me that this is the best arrangement."
There was to be no escape then. Once more the stronger will prevailed. Without another word she turned from him and went upstairs. She might have defied him, but she knew in her heart that he could compass his ends in spite of her. And she was afraid.
She had a moment of absolute panic as she mounted into the high cart. He handed her up, and his grasp, close and firm, seemed to her eloquent of that deadly resolution with which he mastered her.
For the first half-mile he said nothing whatever, being fully occupied with the animal he was driving--a skittish young mare impatient of restraint.
Doris on her side sat in unbroken silence, enduring the strain with a set face, dreading the moment when he should have leisure to speak.
He was evidently in no hurry to do so. Or was it possible that he found some difficulty in choosing his words?
At length he turned his head and spoke.
"I secured this interview," he said, "because there is an important point which I want to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
She nerved herself to meet his look, but her eyes fell before its steady mastery almost instantly.
"About our wedding," he said in his calm, deliberate voice. "I should like to have the day fixed."
Her heart gave a great thump of dismay.
"Do you really mean to hunt me down then and--and marry me against my will?" she said, almost panting out the words.
Caryl turned his eyes back to the mare.
"I mean to marry you--yes," he said. "I think you forget that you accepted me of your own accord."
"I was mad!" she broke in passionately.
"People in love are never wholly sane," he remarked cynically.
"I was never in love with you!" she cried. "Never, never!"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Nevertheless you will marry me," he said.
"Why?" she gasped back furiously. "Why should I marry you? You know I hate you, and you--you--surely you must hate me?"
"No," he said with extreme deliberation, "strange as it may seem, I don't."
Something in the words quelled her anger. Abruptly she abandoned the struggle and fell silent, her face averted.
"And so," he proceeded, "we may as well decide upon the wedding-day without further argument."
"And, if--if I refuse?" she murmured rather incoherently.
"You will not refuse," he said with a finality so absolute that her last hope went out like an extinguished candle.
She seized her courage with both hands and turned to him.
"You will give me a little while to think it over?"
"Why?" said Caryl.
"Because I--I can't possibly decide upon the spur of the moment," she said confusedly.
Was he going to refuse her even this small request? It almost seemed that he was.
"How long will it take you?" he asked. "Will you give me an answer to-night?"
Her heart leapt to a sudden hope called to life by his words.
"To-morrow!" she said quickly.
"I said to-night."
"Very well," she rejoined, yielding. "To-night, if you prefer it."
"Thanks. I do."
They were his last words on the subject. He seemed to think it ended there, and there was nothing more to be said.
As for Doris, she sat by his