Nor could I flatter myself that Lalage was any better off than I was. I had fully intended to make myself quite clear. The Archdeacon's example had nerved me. I distinctly remembered the sensation of determining that this one crisis at least should be brought to a definite issue, but I was not at all sure that I had succeeded. The gentleman of t.i.tle whose exploits filled the three hundred pages of "Sword Play" said: "I love you and have always loved you more than life"; and though he spoke in a voice which was hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion, his meaning must have been perfectly plain. I had not said, nor could I imagine that I ever should say, anything half so heroic. Had I said anything at all or was Lalage as perplexed as I was? This question troubled me, unnecessarily; for, as it turned out afterward, Lalage was not at all perplexed.

CHAPTER XXII

My mind concentrated on one question: Was I to consider myself as engaged to be married to Lalage? The phrase, with its flavour of vulgarity, set my teeth on edge; but no other way of expression occurred to me and I was too deeply anxious to spend time in pursuit of elegancies. It was absurd that I could not answer my question. A man ought to know whether he has or has not committed himself to a proposal of marriage. The Archdeacon, I felt perfectly certain, knew what he had done. And I ought to know whether Lalage had accepted or rejected the proposal. The Archdeacon can have had few if any doubts when Lalage left him. I made up my mind at last to lay the case before my mother. I determined to repeat to her, as nearly as possible, verbatim, the whole conversation which had taken place in the greenhouse. I knew that I should feel foolish while making these confidences. I should, indeed, appear positively ridiculous when I asked my mother to settle the question which troubled me. But my mother is extraordinarily sympathetic and, in any case, it was better to suffer as a fool than to continue to be the prey of perplexity. I sighed a little when I recollected that my mother had a keen sense of the ridiculous and that my dilemma was very likely indeed to appeal to it.

I found my mother in the drawing-room with the remains of afternoon tea still spread on a small table before her. I had just time to notice that two people had been drinking tea and that the second cup, balanced precariously on the arm of a chair, was half full. Then my mother crossed the room rapidly and kissed me three times. She may have done such a thing before. I think it likely that she did when I was a baby.

She certainly never kissed me more than once at a time since I was old enough to remember what she did.

"I'm so delighted," she said, "so very delighted. I can't tell you how glad I am."

This remark, taken in connection with the kisses which preceded it, could only have one meaning. I realized at once that I actually was going to marry Lalage. I was not exactly surprised, but the news was so very important that I felt it right to make absolutely certain of its truth.

"You're quite sure, I suppose?" I said.

"Lalage has been here with me. She has only just gone."

"Then we may regard it as settled."

"You silly boy! Haven't you been settling it for the last hour?"

"That's exactly what I want to know. Have I? I mean to say, have we?"

"Lalage seems to think you have."

"That's all right then. She'd be sure to know."

"How can you talk like that when you've arranged everything down to the minutest details?"

This startled me. I felt it necessary to ask for more information.

"Would you mind recapitulating the details? I'm a little confused about them."

"You're to wait till the Archdeacon is actually bishop," said my mother, "and then he's to marry you."

"Is that your plan or Lalage's?"

"Lalage's, of course. I suppose it's yours too."

"I'm sorry," I said, "to find that Lalage is so vindictive. I hoped that she'd have been more ready to forgive and forget."

"I know what you're thinking about, because Lalage told me. She doesn't mean to be vindictive in the least. She seemed to think----"

"Surely not that the Archdeacon will like it?"

"Hardly that; but that under the circ.u.mstances his feelings would be hurt if any one else was asked to perform the ceremony."

"After all," I said, "there's still Miss Battersby. He can't complain."

"She's to be a bridesmaid. So is Hilda, of course."

"Selby-Harrison shall be best man," I said.

"Oh!" said my mother, "I gathered from Lalage that you were to ask----"

"I know she doesn't want me to get into touch with Selby-Harrison.

I've been trying to make his acquaintance for years and she keeps on concealing him. But this time I'm determined. I'll have Selby-Harrison or no one."

"I gathered from Lalage that she'd prefer----"

"Very well," I said, "I'll have two best men. I don't see why I shouldn't. Who's the other?"

"Lalage mentioned a Mr. t.i.thers."

"t.i.therington is his name," I said, "and if I have him I don't see how I can very well leave out Vittie, O'Donoghue, and McMeekin. I don't know how you feel about the matter, but I rather object to being made a public show of with five best men."

"I'm so delighted about it," said my mother, "that I don't mind if you go on talking nonsense about it all the evening. Lalage will be exactly the wife you want. She'll shake you up out of your lazy ways and make something of you in the end."

"Has she settled that?"

"No. She and I are to have a long talk about that, sometime, soon."

I was about to protest, when the door opened and Miss Battersby staggered breathlessly into the room. She was highly flushed and evidently greatly excited. She made straight for me. I thought she was going to kiss me, I still think that she meant to. I pushed my mother forward and got into a corner behind the tea table. Miss Battersby worked off the worst of her emotion on my mother. She must have kissed her eighteen or twenty times. After that she did not want to do more than to shake hands with me.

"Lalage has just told me," she said, "and I'm so glad. I happened to be at the rectory when she came home. She had been looking for me in the morning, and as soon as I could I went over to her."

"Has she telegraphed to Miss Pettigrew?" I asked.

"Not that I know of," said Miss Battersby; "in fact, I'm sure she hasn't."

"Then I'll do it myself. I don't see why Lalage should be the only one to break the news. I'd send a wire to Hilda too if I knew her surname; but I've never been able to find that out. I wish she'd marry Selby-Harrison. Then I'd know how to address her when I want to telegraph or write to her."

"Won't you stay for dinner?" said my mother to Miss Battersby. "We can send you home afterward."

"Oh, no. The car is waiting for me at the rectory. I told the man to put up. Lord Thormanby----"

"You might break it to him," I said.

"He'll be greatly delighted," said Miss Battersby.

"No, he won't," I said. "At least I shall be very much surprised if he is. He told me this morning that I was to go and muzzle Lalage."

"He didn't mean it," said Miss Battersby.

"Besides," said my mother, "you will."

I reflected on this. My mother and Miss Pettigrew are intimate friends.