To-day was Thursday. When Saturday came the state of things at “Runnymede” had undergone no change whatever; Emmeline still waited for a moment of courage, and Mumford, though he did not relish the prospect, began to think it more than probable that Miss Derrick would hold her ground until her actual marriage with Mr. Bowling. Whether that unknown person would discharge the debt his betrothed was incurring seemed an altogether uncertain matter. Louise, in the meantime, kept quiet as a mouse—so strangely quiet, indeed, that Emmeline’s prophetic soul dreaded some impending disturbance, worse than any they had yet suffered.
At luncheon, Louise made known that she would have to leave in the middle of dinner to catch a train. No explanation was offered or asked, but Emmeline, it being Saturday, said she would put the dinner-hour earlier, to suit her friend’s convenience. Louise smiled pleasantly, and said how very kind it was of Mrs. Mumford.
She had no difficulty in reaching Streatham by the time appointed. Unfortunately, it was a cloudy evening, and a spattering of rain fell from time to time.
‘I suppose you’ll be afraid to walk to the Common,’ said Mr. Cobb, who stood waiting at the exit from the station, and showed more satisfaction in his countenance when Louise appeared than he evinced in words.
‘Oh, I don’t care,’ she answered. ‘It won’t rain much, and I’ve brought my umbrella, and I’ve nothing on that will take any harm.’
She had, indeed, dressed herself in her least demonstrative costume. Cobb wore the usual garb of his leisure hours, which was better than that in which he had called the other day at “Runnymede.” For some minutes they walked towards Streatham Common without interchange of a word, and with no glance at each other. Then the man coughed, and said bluntly that he was glad Louise had come.
‘Well, I wanted to see you,’ was her answer.
‘What about?’
‘I don’t think I shall be able to stay with the Mumfords. They’re very nice people, but they’re not exactly my sort, and we don’t get on very well. Where had I better go?’
‘Go? Why home, of course. The best place for you.’
Cobb was prepared for a hot retort, but it did not come. After a moment’s reflection, Louise said quietly:
‘I can’t go home. I’ve quarrelled with them too badly. You haven’t seen mother lately? Then I must tell you how things are.’
She did so, with no concealment save of the correspondence with Mr. Bowling, and the not unimportant statements concerning him which she had made to Mrs. Mumford. In talking with Cobb, Louise seemed to drop a degree or so in social status; her language was much less careful than when she conversed with the Mumfords, and even her voice struck a note of less refinement. Decidedly she was more herself, if that could be said of one who very rarely made conscious disguise of her characteristics.
‘Better stay where you are, then, for the present,’ said Cobb, when he had listened attentively. ‘I dare say you can get along well enough with the people, if you try.’
‘That’s all very well; but what about paying them? I shall owe three guineas for every week I stop.’
‘It’s a great deal, and they ought to feed you very well for it,’ replied the other, smiling rather sourly.
‘Don’t be vulgar. I suppose you think I ought to live on a few shillings a week.’
‘Lots of people have to. But there’s no reason why you should. But look here: why should you be quarrelling with your people now about that fellow Bowling? You don’t see him anywhere, do you?’
He flashed a glance at her, and Louise answered with a defiant motion of the head.
‘No, I don’t. But they put the blame on me, all the same. I shouldn’t wonder if they think I’m trying to get him.’
She opened her umbrella, for heavy drops had begun to fall; they pattered on Cobb’s hard felt hat, and Louise tried to shelter him as well as herself.
‘Never mind me,’ he said. ‘And here, let me hold that thing over you. If you just put your arm in mine, it’ll be easier. That’s the way. Take two steps to my one; that’s it.’
Again they were silent for a few moments. They had reached the Common, and Cobb struck along a path most likely to be unfrequented. No wind was blowing; the rain fell in steady spots that could all but be counted, and the air grew dark.
‘Well, I can only propose one thing,’ sounded the masculine voice. ‘You can get out of it by marrying me.’
Louise gave a little laugh, rather timid than scornful.
‘Yes, I suppose I can. But it’s an awkward way. It would be rather like using a sledge-hammer to crack a nut.’
‘It’ll come sooner or later,’ asserted Cobb, with genial confidence.
‘That’s what I don’t like about you.’ Louise withdrew her arm petulantly. ‘You always speak as if I couldn’t help myself. Don’t you suppose I have any choice?’
‘Plenty, no doubt,’ was the grim answer.
‘Whenever we begin to quarrel it’s your fault,’ pursued Miss Derrick, with unaccustomed moderation of tone. ‘I never knew a man who behaved like you do. You seem to think the way to make anyone like you is to bully them. We should have got on very much better if you had tried to be pleasant.’
‘I don’t think we’ve got along badly, all things considered,’ Cobb replied, as if after weighing a doubt. ‘We’d a good deal rather be together than apart, it seems to me; or else, why do we keep meeting? And I don’t want to bully anybody—least of all, you. It’s a way I have of talking, I suppose. You must judge a man by his actions and his meaning, not by the tone of his voice. You know very well what a great deal I think of you. Of course I don’t like it when you begin to speak as if you were only playing with me; nobody would.’
‘I’m serious enough,’ said Louise, trying to hold the umbrella over her companion, and only succeeding in directing moisture down the back of his neck. ‘And it’s partly through you that I’ve got into such difficulties.’
‘How do you make that out?’
‘If it wasn’t for you, I should very likely marry Mr. Bowling.’
‘Oh, he’s asked you, has he?’ cried Cobb, staring at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?—Don’t let me stand in your way. I dare say he’s just the kind of man for you. At all events, he’s like you in not knowing his own mind.’
‘Go on! Go on!’ Louise exclaimed carelessly. ‘There’s plenty of time. Say all you’ve got to say.’
From the gloom of the eastward sky came a rattling of thunder, like quick pistol-shots. Cobb checked his steps.
‘We mustn’t go any further. You’re getting wet, and the rain isn’t likely to stop.’
‘I shall not go back,’ Louise answered, ‘until something has been settled.’ And she stood before him, her eyes cast down, whilst Cobb looked at the darkening sky. ‘I want to know what’s going to become of me. The Mumfords won’t keep me much longer, and I don’t wish to stay where I’m not wanted.’
‘Let us walk down the hill.’
A flash of lightning made Louise start, and the thunder rattled again. But only light drops were falling. The girl stood her ground.
‘I want to know what I am to do. If you can’t help me, say so, and let me go my own way.’
‘Of course I can help you. That is, if you’ll be honest with me. I want to know, first of all, whether you’ve been encouraging that man Bowling.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Very well, I believe you. And now I’ll make you a fair offer. Marry me as soon as I can make the arrangements, and I’ll pay all you owe, and see that you are in comfortable lodgings until I’ve time to get a house. It could be done before I go to Bristol, and then, of course, you could go with me.’
‘You speak,’ said Louise, after a short silence, ‘just as if you were making an agreement with a servant.’