"Oh no, I must. This is the short way."
Her hands trembled so that she could hardly undo the private fastening of Miss Mohun's garden, and she began to dash down the cliff steps. Just at the turn, where the stair-way was narrowest, Lance heard her exclaim, and saw that she had met face to face no other than Captain Armytage himself.
"Oh! is it?" and she so tottered on the rocky step that the hand he had put out in greeting became a support, and a tender one, as Lance said (perhaps with a little malice)-
"We heard that the Buccaneer Captain had come to grief."
"I?" he laughed; and Gillian shook herself up, asking-
"Weren't you run down?" seeing even as she spoke that not a drop of wet was traceable.
"Me! What! did you think I was going to peril my life in a 'long- shore concern like this?" said he, with a merry laugh, betraying infinite pleasure.
"But did nothing happen? Nobody drowned?" she asked, half disappointed.
"Not a mouse! A little chap, one of the fairies yesterday, tumbled off the sea-wall where he had no business to be, but he swam like a cork. We threw him a rope and hauled him up."
Wherewith he gave his arm to Gillian, who was still trembling, and clasped it so warmly that Lance thought it expedient to pass them as soon as possible and continue his journey on the staircase, giving a low whistle of amusement, and pausing to look out on the beautiful blue bay, crowded with the white sails of yachts and pleasure-boats, with brilliant festoons of little flags, and here and there the feather of steam from a launch. He could look, for he was feeling lighter of heart now that the communication was over.
Perhaps Lance would have been edified could he have heard the colloquy-
"Gillian! you do care for me after all?"
Gillian tried to take her arm away and to say, "Common humanity," but she did not get the words out.
"No, no!" he said. "Confess that if it had been that fisher-boy, you would not be here now!" and he kept tight the arm that she was going to take away. Her face was in a flame.
"Well, well; and if-if it wasn't, you need not make such a fuss about it."
"Not when it is the first ray of hope you have afforded me, for the only joy of my life?"
"I never meant to afford-"
"But you could not help."
"Oh, don't! I never meant it. Oh dear! I never meant to be worried about troublesome things like this till I had got older, and learnt a great deal more; and now you want to upset it all. It is very-very disagreeable."
"But you need not be upset!" poor Ernley Armytage pleaded. "Remember, I am going away for three years. May I not take hope with me?"
Gillian paused.
"Well," again she said, "I do like you-I mean, I don't mind you as much as most people; you have done something, and you have some sense."
His look of rapture at these very moderate words quite overpowered her, and the tears welled up into her eyes, while she made a sudden change of tone.
"There, there-of course it is all right. I'm a nasty creature, and if you like me, it is more than I deserve, only, whatever you do, don't make me cry. I've got all the horrid dolls and pen-wipers, and bags and rags to get rid of."
"May I talk to your mother?"
"Oh yes, if you can catch her. She will be ever so much more good to you than I; and I only hope she will warn you what a Tartar I am."
Wherewith Gillian threw off her hat, swung open the gate, and dashed like a hunted hare up to her mother's stall, where in truth she had been wanted, since only two helpers had remained to assist in the cheapening and final disposal of the remnants. Lady Merrifield read something in those wild eyes and cheeks burning, but the exigencies of the moment obliged her to hold her peace, and apply herself to estimating the half-price of the cushions and table-cloths she rejoiced to see departing, as well as to preserve wits enough not to let Gillian sell the Indian screen for two shillings and sixpence, under the impression that this was the half of five pounds. Mysie was the only one who kept her senses fairly undisturbed, and could balance between her duty to the schools and her desire to gratify a child, happy in that she never saw more than one thing at a time. Valetta and Primrose were yachting, so that the distraction was less, and Captain Armytage lingered round, taking messages, and looking in wistful earnestness for some one to be disengaged. Yet there was something in his eyes that spoke of the calmness of an attained object, and Miss Mohun, who had sold off all her remaining frocks and pinafores at a valuation to Marilda for some institution, and was free to help her sister, saw in a moment that his mind was settled.
Yet speech was scarcely possible till the clearance was finally effected by a Dutch auction, when Captain Armytage distinguished himself unexpectedly as auctioneer, and made an end even of the last sachet, though it smelt so strongly of lip-salve that he declared that a bearer must be paid to take it away. But the purchaser was a big sailor, who evidently thought it an elegant gift for his sweetheart.
By the time it was gone the yachters had come home. Captain Armytage seized on Sir Jasper, who already know his purpose, and wished him success, though withheld from saying a word to urge the suit by Lady Merrifield's assurances, that to hurry Gillian's decision would be fatal to success, and that a reproof for petulance would be worse. She did not know whether to wish for the engagement or not; Gillian was her very dear and sufficient companion, more completely so than Mysie, who was far less clever; and she had sometimes doubted whether common domestic life beginning early was for the girl's happiness and full development; but she knew that her husband would scout these doubts as nonsense, and both really liked Ernley Armytage, and had heard nothing but what was to his advantage in every way, when they had been in his own county, and had seen his neighbours and his family. However, she could only keep quiet, and let her heart rise in a continual aspiration at every silent moment for her child's guidance.
Before she had had her moment of speech with either, she heard her husband calling Gillian, and she knew that he was the one person with whom his daughter never hid her true self in petulance or sarcasm. So Gillian met him in the General's sitting-room, gasping as she turned the handle of the door. He set a chair for her, and spoke gravely.
"My dear," he said, "I find you have gained the heart of a good man."
"I am sure I never meant it," half whispered Gillian.
"What is that-you never meant it? I never supposed you capable of such an unladylike design. You mean that you were taken by surprise?"
"No; I did see what he was at," and she hung her head.
"You guessed his intentions?"
"Yes, papa; but I didn't want-"
"Try to explain yourself," said Sir Jasper as she broke off.
"I-I did wish to go on improving myself and being useful. Surely it was not wrong, papa. Don't you see, I did not want to let myself be worried into letting myself go out, and spoiling all my happiness and improvement and work, and getting to care for somebody else?"
"But you have consented."
"Well, when I was frightened for him I found I did care, and he got hold of me, and made me allow that I did; and now I suppose nobody will give me any peace."
"Stay, Gillian-keep yourself from this impatient mood. I think I understand your unwillingness to overthrow old associations and admit a new overmastering feeling."
"That's just it, papa," said Gillian, looking up. "I can't bear that overmastering feeling, nor the being told every one must come to it. It seems such folly."
"Folly that Eve was given to be a helpmeet, and as the bride, the Church to her Bridegroom? Look high enough, Gillian, and the popular chatter will not confuse your mind. You own that you really love him."
"Oh, papa, not half so much as mamma, or Mysie, or Jasper, but-but I think I might."