He appeared to be extraordinarily good-looking as he stood there, his face to the dying light. Supposing I took him at his word, after all!

"But what has suddenly changed your ideas since yesterday? You told me you had come down to make it clear to me that you could not possibly obey her orders."

"That was yesterday," he said. "I had not really seen you--to-day I think differently."

"It is just because you are sorry for me; I suppose I seem so lonely," I whispered, demurely.

"It is perfectly impossible, what you propose to do--to go and live by yourself at a London hotel--the idea drives me mad."

"It will be delightful--no one to order me about from day to night!"

"Listen," he said, and he flung himself into an arm-chair. "You can marry me, and I will take you to Paris, or where you want, and I won't order you about--only I shall keep the other beasts of men from looking at you."

But I told him at once that I thought that would be very dull. "I have never had the chance of any one looking at me," I said, "and I want to feel what it is like. Mrs. Carruthers always a.s.sured me I was very pretty, you know, only she said that I was certain to come to a bad end, because of my type, unless I got married at once, and then if my head was screwed on it would not matter; but I don't agree with her."

He walked up and down the room impatiently.

"That is just it," he said. "I would rather be the first--I would rather you began by me. I am strong enough to ward off the rest."

"What does 'beginning by you' mean?" I asked, with great candor. "Old Lord Bentworth said I should begin with him, when he was here to shoot pheasants last autumn; he said it could not matter, he was so old; but I didn't----"

Mr. Carruthers bounded up from his chair.

"You didn't what! Good Lord! what did he want you to do?" he asked, aghast.

"Well," I said, and I looked down for a moment; I felt stupidly shy. "He wanted me to kiss him."

Mr. Carruthers looked almost relieved. It was strange.

"The old wretch! Nice company my aunt seems to have kept!" he exclaimed.

"Could she not take better care of you than that--to let you be insulted by her guests?"

"I don't think Lord Bentworth meant to insult me. He only said he had never seen such a red, curly mouth as mine; and as I was bound to go to the devil some day with that, and such hair, I might begin by kissing him--he explained it all."

"And were you not very angry?" his voice wrathful.

"No, not very; I could not be, I was shaking so with laughter. If you could have seen the silly old thing, like a wizened monkey, with dyed hair and an eye-gla.s.s--it was too comic! I only told you because you said the sentence 'begin with you,' and I wanted to know if it was the same thing----"

Mr. Carruthers's eyes had such a strange expression--puzzle and amus.e.m.e.nt, and something else. He came over close to me.

"Because," I went on, "if so--I believe if that is always the beginning, I don't want any beginnings. I haven't the slightest desire to kiss any one.

I should simply hate it."

Mr. Carruthers laughed. "Oh, you are only a baby child, after all!" he said.

This annoyed me. I got up with great dignity. "Tea will be ready in the white drawing-room," I said, stiffly, and walked towards my bedroom door.

He came after me.

"Send your maid away, and let us have it up here," he said. "I like this room."

But I was not to be appeased thus easily, and deliberately called Veronique and gave her fresh directions.

"Poor old Mr. Barton will be feeling so lonely," I said, as I went out into the pa.s.sage. "I am going to see that he has a nice tea," and I looked back at Mr. Carruthers over my shoulder. Of course, he followed me, and we went together down the stairs.

In the hall a footman with a telegram met us. He tore it open impatiently.

Then he looked quite annoyed.

"I hope you won't mind," he said, "but a friend of mine, Lord Robert Vavasour, is arriving this afternoon. He is a--er--great judge of pictures. I forgot I asked him to come down and look at them; it clean went out of my head."

I told him he was host, and why should I object to what guests he had.

"Besides, I am going myself to-morrow," I said, "if Veronique can get the packing done."

"Nonsense! How can I make you understand that I do not mean to let you go at all?"

I did not answer--only looked at him defiantly.

Mr. Barton was waiting patiently for us in the white drawing-room, and we had not been munching m.u.f.fins for five minutes when the sound of wheels crunching the gravel of the great sweep--the windows of this room look out that way--interrupted our made conversation.

"This must be Bob arriving," Mr. Carruthers said, and went reluctantly into the hall to meet his guest.

They came back together presently, and he introduced Lord Robert to me.

I felt at once he was rather a pet. Such a shape! Just like the Apollo Belvedere! I do love that look, with a tiny waist and nice shoulders, and looking as if he were as lithe as a snake, and yet could break pokers in half like Mr. Rochester in _Jane Eyre_.

He has great, big, sleepy eyes of blue, and rather a plaintive expression, and a little fairish mustache turned up at the corners, and the nicest mouth one ever saw; and when you see him moving, and the back of his head, it makes you think all the time of a beautifully groomed thorough-bred horse. I don't know why. At once--in a minute--when we looked at each other, I felt I should like "Bob." He has none of Mr. Carruthers's cynical, hard expression, and I am sure he can't be nearly as old--not more than twenty-seven or so.

He seemed perfectly at home--sat down and had tea, and talked in the most casual, friendly way. Mr. Carruthers appeared to freeze up, Mr. Barton got more _ba.n.a.l_, and the whole thing entertained me immensely.

I often used to long for adventures in the old days with Mrs. Carruthers, and here I am really having them!

Such a situation! I am sure people would think it most improper! I alone in the house with these three men! I felt I really would have to go--but where?

Meanwhile I have every intention of amusing myself.

Lord Robert and I seemed to have a hundred things to say to each other. I do like his voice--and he is so perfectly _sans gene_ it makes no difficulties. By the end of tea we were as old friends. Mr. Carruthers got more and more polite and stiff, and finally jumped up and hurried his guest off to the smoking-room.

I put on such a duck of a frock for dinner--one of the sweetest, chastened simplicity, in black, showing peeps of skin through the thin part at the top. Nothing could be more demure or becoming, and my hair would not behave, and stuck out in rebellious waves and curls everywhere.

I thought it would be advisable not to be in too good time, so sauntered down after I knew dinner was announced.

They were both standing on the hearth-rug. I always forget to count Mr.

Barton; he was in some chair, I suppose, but I did not notice him.

Mr. Carruthers is the taller--about one inch. He must be a good deal over six feet, because the other one is very tall, too; but now that one saw them together, Mr. Carruthers's figure appeared stiff and set besides Lord Robert's, and he hasn't got nearly such a little waist. But they really are lovely creatures, both of them, and I don't yet know which I like best.

We had such an engaging time at dinner! I was as provoking as I could be in the time, sympathetically, absorbingly interested in Mr. Barton's long stories, and only looking at the other two now and then from under my eyelashes; while I talked in the best demure fashion that I am sure even Lady Katherine Montgomerie--a neighbor of ours--would have approved of.