"Evelyn! Do you realise that _nothing_ is settled, and that nothing need be, unless you are absolutely, whole-heartedly _sure_?"

"I am absolutely whole-hearted about several things already. What sort of things were _you_ thinking about?"

"Well, take the house first. It meets my ideal, but it mayn't be yours.

You must promise to give an unvarnished opinion."

"Make your mind easy! If there is one thing that I may claim to be above all others, it is 'unvarnished'. I have a brutal frankness in expressing my own opinion. If, through nice feeling, I try to disguise it, my manner shrieks it aloud!"

"That's all right then. I'm glad to hear it. Next comes the question of time. We should have to take a lease of three years. I don't know if you'd care to bind yourself for so long."

That reminded me of the aunts' "until", and I said solemnly, "Charmion, tell me the worst. _Is_ there an eligible bachelor who owns the next 'place' ready to discover me picking his roses, or trespa.s.sing on his side of the stream, and to make love to me forthwith? They always _do_ in books, you know, when girls go to live in country houses."

Charmion smiled her slow, languorous smile.

"I have amused myself with looking up the names of the people living in all the big houses around: They seem uniformly made up of couples. To the best of my belief, there is not a single man, bachelor or widower, within many miles."

I said, "Oh!" and felt the faint, natural dismay which any human girl would feel in the circ.u.mstances. Charmion herself was enough romance for the present, and a precipitate "lover next door" would for the moment have been _de trop_, but still--

My expression (unvarnished!) evidently betrayed my feelings, for Charmion smiled, sighed, and stretched out a caressing hand.

"Let's be honest. It is foolish to set up a partnership in the dark.

Is there _anyone_, Evelyn, who may swoop down upon us at a moment's notice, and carry you off to share _his_ house?"

"To the best of my knowledge there is not a solitary one. I'm quite sure of one thing, and that is, that however wildly he swooped, I wouldn't go!"

"But there must be--you are so pretty, Evelyn, and so attractive--there must _have_ been."

"Oh yes; two. But not real lovers, Charmion, only--_pretendus_. One was young and needy and ambitious, and thought that I should look very well sitting at the head of his table. Incidentally, that my money would be useful to provide the table and the things upon it. The other--he was rather a dear, and he cared enough to give me a pang. But he was happily married last year to a girl who is as _un_-like me in every respect as you can possibly imagine. They are both ancient history now."

"And you? You yourself? You have never been in love?"

If any other woman had asked me such a question there would have been short shrift with her. Charmion herself had never before attempted such personalities; but now, when she deemed it necessary, she spoke without a flicker of hesitation, her grey eyes staring full into mine. It would have seemed ridiculous to take offence.

"Once. At first sight. Quite bowled over. We met at an hotel."

She knew what I meant, made a dainty little grimace, and bent her head in a small bow of acknowledgment, which somehow managed to look quite regal and stately. I longed to put one or two questions in return.

Widows _have_ been known to marry again! Why should I not wish to be rea.s.sured on my own account? Why should it be wrong for me to force confidences, when she herself had led the way? It would _not_ be wrong; it would be right, and prudent, and praiseworthy. The only objection was, _I could not do it_. After that little bow of acknowledgment, Charmion threw back her head until it rested on the high cushioned back of her chair.

"That's settled then," she said quietly.

Her heavy lids drooped over her eyes, her fine white hands were folded in her lap. There was in voice and manner an air of finality, which was as impervious as a barrier of barbed wire. Not for any bribe in the world would I have attempted to scale it.

The next morning, bright and early, we chartered a "fly," and lumbered along two miles of country lanes, and then, suddenly turning a corner, found ourselves at the gate of Pastimes. It was a dull, grey day, of which I was glad, for _any_ place can look attractive in spring sunshine. I have seen even a third-rate London square look quite frisky and inviting with a shimmer of green over the black trees, and the spring-cleaned windows sending out flashes of light; it's a very different spectacle on a November afternoon. Five minutes'

acquaintanceship with Pastimes showed, however, that its predominating quality was cheerfulness. There was a great deal of panelling on the walls, but it was of white wood, not oak, and the old, small latticed windows had been converted into deep bays, filled with great panes of plate gla.s.s--a pagan proceeding from an artistic point of view, but infinitely cheerful and healthy. There was a large central hall from either side of which opened two rooms of medium size, facing respectively east and west; a quaint descent of two steps led the way to a really s.p.a.cious drawing-room, through the great windows of which was a lovely vista of velvet lawn, and a great cedar drooping its green branches to the ground.

Parallel with the drawing-room, and also facing south, was a long gla.s.sed-in apartment which had evidently been used to harbour plants, garden-chairs, and impedimenta, but which revealed itself to our eyes as an ideal sun-parlour for chilly days. Sheltered from draughts by the outstanding walls, yet with a gla.s.s roof and frontage to catch every ray of sun, the parlour would be an ideal refuge for spring and autumn. So far as public rooms went, we were well off with five apartments at the disposal of two people.

"Mine!--yours!--_ours_!" cried Charmion, waving her hands descriptively, first towards the two smaller rooms, and then to the other three in turn.

"In the hall we will eat; the big room shall be no ordinary formal drawing-room, but a living-room _a deux_. The sun-parlour also we shall share, but the 'sulkies' shall be private ground, hermetically sealed against intruders! There is a spare room upstairs which can be spared for muddles. I have a fastidiously tidy eye. It _offends_ me to see things scattered about, but my hands _will_ go on scattering them, so it is necessary for my peace of mind to have a muddle-room where I can deposit bundles at a moment's notice, and feel sure that they will not be tidied away. Well, shall we go upstairs and see the bedrooms?"

"Where _are_ the stairs?" I asked curiously, for from no corner of the hall was there a glimpse of staircase visible. I had not thought about it before, but now I realised that it was just this absence which gave that touch of comfort and privacy which is wanting in the ordinary entrance "lounge". There was no draughty well, no galleried s.p.a.ce overhead, from which curious ears could overhear private confidences. I stared round mystified, till Charmion opened yet another doorway, and behold! there was the staircase, the oddest, curliest specimen of its kind, mounting up and up within a narrow well, for all the world like the steps in a church tower, except that these were wide and shallow, and that a thick bra.s.s rod had been placed on the outer wall to act as a banister in the case of need. Whoever had built Pastimes had plainly believed that stairs were needed for the purpose of transit only, and had refused to waste s.p.a.ce on their adornment.

On the first landing were several good bedrooms, two of which possessed big sunny balconies, facing south.

"That settles it!" I told Charmion. "If I had had any doubts before, the balconies would have decided me, once for all. All my life I have yearned to have a bedroom opening on to a really big balcony. I'm crazy about balconies! Think of the happy hours one has spent on balconies in Switzerland and Italy! To have been in a room without one would have been to lose half the joy. And even in England--think of all the things one can do on a balcony of one's very own. Sleep out when it is hot.

Air your mattress. Hang up your sponge. Grow your pet flowers. Dry your hair. Cry it out quietly when you feel blue. Sentimentalise over the railings when you feel _rose_."

Charmion's fine brows arched, her lids drooped over her eyes. I recognised the same expression which her face had worn the night before, when for a moment I had seemed on the point of questioning her about her own romance. Once more I felt myself up against an impenetrable wall of reserve, and hastily switched the conversation to the more prosaic topic of cupboards. The very sound of a balcony bristles with romance, but cupboards may be discussed with safety under the most lacerating circ.u.mstances. There is something comfortably safe and stodgy about them. And Pastimes was so rich in this respect that we spent a happy half-hour appointing their future uses, and jotting down notes for their improvement.

Later on we visited the gardens, beautiful even in their sleep, and promising a very paradise for summer days. The lawns and flower beds immediately around the house were exquisitely in order, but by far the greater part of the grounds was uncultivated. There was a strip of _real_ woodland, where the light filtered down through the branches of tall old trees on to a carpet of dried leaves and bracken, through which could be seen the close-growing green shoots which foretold a harvest of bulbs. Later on no doubt there would be primroses and bluebells, and when summer came, if I knew anything about it, there would be two hammocks swinging between spreading branches, and two happy women reposing therein. It was this _real_ country air which gave Pastimes its chief charm.

That evening Charmion came to my room, and we sat together by the fire and talked for three solid hours. As a rule, I get fidgety in the evening when talk is the only amus.e.m.e.nt, but I can sit and listen to Charmion for as long as she chooses to go on. She is--interesting! She says things in an interesting way, and has interesting things to say. I have met extraordinarily clever and well-informed people who are terrible bores. Charmion would be interesting if she told one how to make an egg flip! As I watched the delicate play of expression on the tired face, which was yet so thrillingly alive, as I listened to the slow soft drawl of her voice, I felt a sudden rush of thankfulness and exhilaration.

"Charmion!" I cried suddenly, "aren't you _thankful_ to be rich?"

She flinched as though I had struck her, and turned upon me a wild-eyed look of affront.

"Rich? Who says I am rich? Who has been talking about my affairs?

Have you--have you been making inquiries to find out what I am worth?"

I stared, deeply offended.

"I have not. Perhaps it would have been more business-like if I _had_, but I accepted your word. I asked a simple question because at the moment I happened to be feeling particularly thankful that I could afford to share Pastimes with you, and I imagined that you might possibly feel the same."

I paused, waiting expectantly for words of apology and excuse, but none came. Charmion stared at me below knitted brows, and said shortly:--

"Yes, it is true. You ought to have business references. You shall _have_ them! My lawyer shall write to you at once. I was a wretch to speak so sharply, Evelyn, but--you touched a sore point! Thankful? No, indeed! Money is a curse. The greatest handicap a woman can have. If I had my life to live again, I should choose to be a penniless working girl!"

She had taken off her rings and dropped them in a sparkling little heap on her lap, the while she softly polished her long pink nails. Her padded kimona was of pink silk, heavily embroidered with roses, her feet were thrust into slippers of the same shade and material. A more luxurious figure it would be difficult to imagine. I rolled an expressive eye, and she shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Oh, of course, I am an artificial product, and the chains hold fast. I don't take any particular interest in my appearance, but it is an ingrained habit to go through a certain routine. It would annoy me to have dull nails, so I polish them as you see; also, though I am dead tired, I shall have my hair brushed for half an hour before going to bed, and then steam my foolish face. It bores me profoundly, but it would bore me more to feel unkempt. So far as that goes, I should do exactly the same on twopence a week!"

"Minus a maid and appliances?"

Charmion shrugged daintily.

"Soap and water are cheap, fortunately."

"I beg your pardon! Not _your_ kind of soap. You might find even hot water a difficulty. I imagine that girls on twopence a week have to consider the price of boiling a kettle. Their hot water is not 'laid on'. Moreover, the poor dears must be 'dead tired,' in a way which you and I cannot even imagine."

"It is their life," Charmion said loftily.

"Excuse me--I mean to _live_! That's why I am thankful to have money, because it gives me more scope to live thoroughly."

"Poor innocent! What a delusion. Money shuts the door of your cage. A golden cage, excellently padded, but--_its bars shut out all the best things of life_!"

I laughed again, for the statement was so opposed to all accepted theories.