"My darling," he said, "I shall not ask you to come tomorrow. These things need a good deal of arranging, you know.”
She lay back in the seat, and he saw her wide eyes, her parted lips.
"Ah, but I meant if you wanted me to come tomorrow, I would.”
"My sweet Carolan! But think, there is your family and mine!”
"But, Everard, what do we care for them? It is you and I... is it not?”
She was like a wild bird, he thought. She was enchanting; she was delightful. He wanted to fall on her and kiss her, and blot out the rest of the world as surely she was inviting him to. He remembered his sober years. I am a man; she is but a child, for all her exciting ways, her ball dress and her passionate love. The exciting things were so often forbidden, were they not? The things that appealed to the senses must be eschewed. Oh, yes, that was what he had always thought.
In the days of his boyhood he had thought of entering a monastery; suffering hardship for his faith; he used to think up forms of self-torment as other boys invent new games. In those days he had told himself he would never marry, and he had meant it too, until Carolan came, with that particular quality in her which turned his thoughts from his religion to sensual love. He had compromised then; a priest may take a wife, may he not? He was no Catholic no monk! He shivered to think of the predicament he might have been in, had his mother granted his wish to enter a monastery.
And now Carolan was beside him. Carolan! Carolan! A man. even a man who is a parson, may enjoy his wife.
"Everard," she said, clasping her hands, "I shall be such a good wife to you. I shall have my work to do, shall I not? There are special duties of the parson's wife. Do you think I will suit, Everard?”
He gripped her shoulders hard, trying to fight the excitement that was coming on him again.
"You will suit Everard perfectly," he said, and she laughed, and her laughter was that of a child.
"I must give up climbing trees, must I not, Everard?”
"Indeed you must!”
"I shall have to behave with the greatest decorum? Shall we have a grand wedding, Everard ... and when?”
"Soon," said Everard.
"It must be soon.”
"Yes, I think so too. Soon... and I shall wear white and there will be a grand ceremony. Your father will marry us. Everard, do you think they will mind your marrying me?”
"Mind. Our families have always been friends, have they not?”
She clasped his arm.
"Of course! Of course!”
They were silent; he could feel her fingers pressing his arm, and her face was white in the moonlight.
"Is not life wonderful... wonderful," she said.
"Happiness like this... such as I never dreamed of I Oh, what a mistake it is not to be happy when there is happiness all around you waiting to be taken!”
"We may not take what is not meant for us, darling," said Everard gently.
"May we not? I would. I will snatch at it when no one is looking if need be.”
"You are a baby still, Carolan," "No. Really I am very wise. But I am not good, like you, Everard. You would never take what was not meant for you. And it is because you are so different from me that I love you.”
They were silent while he kept his arm about her. She was holding his hand, kissing it, setting it against the cool skin other shoulder. She was full of innocent provocation. He was alarmed for her and for himself, and it was he who said they should go in; they had been in the summer-house for a long time, and people would notice. Carolan herself had lost all sense of time; she had forgotten that others existed to notice.
But if Everard wished to go in, they must go in. As they walked across the lawn, she said fervently: "I shall be a good wife to you. Everard.
I shall do everything you say ... always. Oh, you will be surprised in me! So good I shall be ... sedate and careful everything that you wish.”
Everard said: "But perhaps I would not wish you to be different from what you are.”
Her laughter echoed round them.
"Then, my sweet Everard, that will be very easy, very easy indeed.”
They had been gone a long time, and when they were back in the ballroom, curious glances were cast in their direction. Their flushed faces told their own story. Women smiled behind their fans; men's eyes lighted up with amusement. Mrs. Orland's face was blank with disapproval and disbelief. The squire's was black as thunder. When he was in a rage he had no thought for the proprieties; he went across the ballroom to Carolan, and spoke to her in a voice which several people standing round him heard. Mrs. Orland drew Everard aside.
"You will go to your room at once," said the squire.
"I will have an explanation of this disgusting behaviour.”
Carolan's green eyes opened very wide.
"Oh, but..”
The squire lowered his voice slightly, but the fury in it was unmistakable.
"Go at once," he said, 'or I will take you.”
"I do not understand," said Carolan.
"The ball is not over yet, and it is my first ball and I...”
"Evidently," said the squire, 'you have to learn how to behave, before you go to a ball. You behave like a kitchen girl. Get up to your room at once!”
She stared at the blue veins standing out on his forehead. And then Everard turned from his mother.
"Allow me to explain, Squire." he said.
"It was entirely due to me...”
"Allow me to look after my own family, sir!" retorted the squire with murder in his eyes. Mrs. Orland, who above all things, dreaded gossip, plucked Everard's sleeve.
"Everard, come with me quickly. The squire knows best where his daughter is concerned.”
Eyes were watching. The music was playing; couples watched as they danced: their eyes were full of amusement and speculation. The naughty little girl and the parson's son! It was rather a good joke.
If you do not go to your room this minute," said the squire between his teeth, "I will tear that contraption of lace and ribbons off you, and lay about you with my own hands here and now. I mean it, Madam. I repeat, go to your room." Mrs. Orland's eyes were pleading; Everard was undecided.
"I am going," said Carolan, and the anger of the squire could not quell the happiness in her.
She went to her room. So this was the end of her first ball! She looked at herself in the mirror. Changed, she was grown up. She loved, and was loved; that had put colour into her eyes, a radiance on her face. Everard ... wonderful, beautiful, clever, kind, good Everard loved her and they would be married. I will be so good, she thought, so good. She had almost forgotten her undignified retreat from the ballroom; she had almost forgotten the anger of the squire, until she heard his step outside her door. He burst in angrily, so that the door crashed against the side of the wall.
"Ah." he said.
"Preening in front of the glass, eh?" And never, never in all her life at Haredon, had she seen him so angry. He shut the door behind him, and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
"Well?" he said.
"You absented yourself from the ballroom with that mollycoddle for nigh on two hours. What were you doing all that time?”
He came towards her threateningly.
"You had better tell me the truth!" he added. And his eyes rested on her bare shoulders, as though, she thought, he were seeing weals leaping up there as he applied the whip.
But happiness gave her courage, and even now she could not think of him so much as the sudden roughness in Everard's voice, and the sudden quiver in his lips as they touched hers. This was nothing. Soon she would be Everard's wife and out of reach of this brute whom she had tried to love and whom, she knew now. she had always hated and feared.
"I will tell you the truth!" she cried out. There is no need to hide it. Soon I shall be gone from here. Soon you will have no right to order me about as you did just now. I hate you for that... in front of them all. Everard and I are going to be married ...”