"You may be or you mayn't; happiness is often largely a question of temperament. For example, I ought to be a very unhappy girl, but I'm not; somehow unhappiness doesn't seem to come easy to me."

"You are very fortunate; what cause have you for unhappiness? I should have thought that there were few people who had less. Has it anything to do with the imagination?"

"There's only one thing I want in this world, and it looks as if I were as little likely to get it as if it were the moon; you may call that imagination, but it's a fact."

"And what may that one thing be?"

"You were just now saying some pretty things about there being only one thing you wanted, and that was the girl you loved, meaning me. I am in the same delightfully romantic situation; there's only one thing I want, and that's the man I love."

A slight change took place in his face, as if a cloud had obscured the sun. He looked at her in silence; it would have been hard to say which was the prettier--she or the flowers. It was seen when he spoke that the change had extended to his voice.

"So there is someone?"

"Oh dear, yes; there always has been, and there always will be."

"Your uncle gave me to understand that the field was clear."

"My uncle Geoffrey Hovenden is--I'm sorry to have to say it of a relation of mine--a Machiavellian old gentleman. No one is better acquainted with my piteous plight than he is; but because he wants you, and wants me to want you, he says nothing about it. Do you mean to say you don't know who it is?"

"Do you suppose that if I had even guessed that there was another I should have said what I have done?"

"There's no telling; his own brother knew all about it, but that didn't stop him."

"Who is the lucky man?"

"Lucky! Pray do let us keep clear of the language of exaggeration, but I doubt if there is a more unlucky creature on the face of G.o.d's earth."

"You pique my curiosity; standing with you as he does I can hardly conceive of him as unlucky. Do I know him?"

"You did, if you don't now."

"You speak in riddles, at which I was never any good."

"Sydney Beaton."

He seemed to start away from her. This time not only his face, but his whole bearing, the entire man, seemed to change.

"Miss Forster, are you in earnest?"

His tone, his manner seemed all at once to have grown cold; he could hardly have held his figure more stiffly erect.

"And pray why shouldn't I be in earnest?"

"You place me in a difficult position; what answer am I to give to that?"

"I know very well what you mean. No one knows better than I do that Sydney is not all wisdom, but do you suppose a woman loves a man because he is wise? Go to!"

"I presume that there are qualities that a woman requires in a man."

"What are they?"

"Surely she looks for at least some of the primitive virtues, say, common honesty, some sense of decency, and that kind of thing."

"Well?" She paused as if for him to speak, but he was still. "Now how am I going to tie these flowers together? I ought to have brought a reel of cotton; as I haven't, you'll have to find me a nice long piece of gra.s.s. Yes, I think that will do. Now, I'll hold the flowers if you'll pa.s.s it round--so."

While together they secured the primroses she went on. The exigencies of the situation required that they should be very close together; her nearness so affected him that he found it difficult to comment upon her words as frankly as he might otherwise have done, which was a fact of which she was possibly aware.

"I know very well all about his having been supposed to have cheated at cards; but I also know him much too well to believe for a single instant that he ever did it; he couldn't, not Sydney Beaton."

"Then--forgive my saying so--why did he run away?"

"Oh, I'll forgive you anything; I want you to say just what is in your mind; that's what I brought you here for. You brought me here to propose; and I brought you because I wanted you to tell me things which I could never find out from anybody else; you've done what you wanted, so now it's my turn."

"It's beginning to occur to me that your uncle is not the only Machiavellian member of your family."

"No? Perhaps not. I wish you'd pull that tighter--what big, strong fingers you have got! Most of my information has been derived from what I call tainted sources--from his brother, for instance. George Beaton wants me to believe that his brother is an unutterable creature. He has told me tales about him which have had quite a different effect to that which he intended; it sometimes is like that when a man tells a girl tales about another man. It seems to me that between you Sydney has been very badly used indeed. His brother's behaviour has been inconceivably bad, and so I took the liberty to tell him. And I'm afraid you don't come out with flying colours."

"What have I done? I am not conscious of having even mentioned his name to you."

"All those men against one; though I'll do you the justice to admit that I think it's quite possible that you are ashamed of yourself."

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow." Again his bearing had stiffened.

"If you don't take care, all these primroses will fall, and then where shall we be? That's better--tied at last. Thank you, Major Reith.

George Beaton told me all about the affair--how all you men set upon one, and actually--according to Sir George--threw him out of the room.

I can't think whatever men can be made of, that you should still be walking about with your heads in the air."

"It's a subject, Miss Forster, which I'm afraid I can hardly discuss with you; there are subjects which men do not discuss with women."

"Is that so, Major Reith? And pray is that meant for a snub? That shows the kind of treatment which I might expect to receive if I consented to become your wife; because I'll have you know that this is a subject that I mean a good many men to discuss with this woman, and, to begin with, you're going to be one of them. What do you think I brought you into the wood for? Didn't I tell you? Now you're in the witness box; if you don't answer all the questions which are put to you I'll have you committed for contempt of court. Sydney Beaton is alleged to have cheated at cards; what is the exact act of which he is said to have been guilty?"

"He subst.i.tuted one card for another."

"Did you see him do it?"

"No, but he was seen by others. The original accusation was made by Anthony Dodwell--you know Dodwell?"

"I know of him, Major Reith, and, thank you, that is quite enough. Was Mr. Dodwell the only eyewitness?"

"Draycott saw him also. Do you know Draycott?"

"Mr. Noel Draycott? Oh, yes, I do know Mr. Noel Draycott. I daresay Mr.

Noel Draycott means well; I wish to speak ill of no one, but I've heard him make some surprising statements, and I'm afraid I shouldn't believe anything Mr. Noel Draycott said merely because he said it. Was he seen to do this thing by anyone else?"

"He was not actually seen."

"What do you mean by that, Major Reith? Either he was, or he was not, seen; surely in such a juxtaposition the word 'actually' is out of place. Explain yourself; don't convey to my mind the impression that you also are prejudiced."

"I a.s.sure you that, so far as I am concerned, it is all the other way.