The Hoyden Part 42

That quick, curious glance brings Rylton to himself. He cannot stay here any longer. He must go back into the house. It will be madness to absent himself. And, after all, is not the whole thing madness?

What is this girl to him? A mere name; nothing more.

He mounts the steps leading to the conservatory, and, meeting Minnie Hescott, asks her to dance.

"This is only a supper dance," says she. "I'm engaged for all the rest. But, if you like, I'll take one turn with you. After that you must get me something to eat; I never felt so hungry in all my life."

CHAPTER XXV.

HOW t.i.tA TOLD A SECRET TO TOM HESCOTT IN THE MOONLIGHT; AND HOW HE SOUGHT TO DISCOVER MANY THINGS, AND HOW HE WAS MOST INNOCENTLY BAFFLED.

"Of course, I shall understand that it is a secret," says Tom Hescott.

Both he and t.i.ta are quite unaware of the fact that Rylton and Mrs.

Bethune had just been standing behind them. t.i.ta, who had been dancing with Hescott, had led the way to this spot when they came out into the garden.

"Still," says t.i.ta, hesitating, "perhaps I ought not to speak. A secret _is_ a secret, you know."

"Yes; everyone knows that," says Hescott.

"Knows what?" sharply.

"About a secret."

"If you're going to be nasty, you shan't know it at all," says t.i.ta.

"I understand you very well. You think no woman can keep a secret."

"Ah! but a man can. Tell me yours."

"Nonsense! A woman is _twice_ as good at keeping a secret as a man is. And I can tell you this"--with a little emphatic shake of her charming head--"that I should not tell _you_ anything of this secret, only that you are always calling her names."

"Her? Who?"

"Oh, you know very well."

"Who do I know very well? Not a soul here except you; and, after all, I don't think I know _you_ very well."

"Well, if you don't you ought."

"Ought what? Know the mysterious 'her' or you?"

_"Me!"_

Hescott looks at her keenly in the dim light. _Is_ she a born coquette, or is she only a sweet child--the sweetest child that earth ever gave forth? Somehow it would have hurt him to find her a coquette.

"Ah! I _don't_ know you."

"Tom!" There is a little reproach in her tone. Suddenly she puts out her little slim hand and slips it into his. "As if we weren't brought up together," says she, "just like a brother and sister. You remember the old days, don't you, Tom? when we used to go fis.h.i.+ng together, and the cricket----"

"Is it wise to remember?" says Hescott in a low tone.

His heart is beating; his fingers now close on hers.

"I don't know--yes. Yes, I think I like to," says t.i.ta. "Darling pappy! Sometimes it all comes back to me. How happy I was then!"

"And now, t.i.ta, _now!_--are you happy now?" asks he.

His tone is almost violent. The pressure of his hand on hers grows hurtful. Involuntarily she gives a little cry.

"Nonsense! Of course I am happy!" says she petulantly, pulling her hand out of his. "How rough you are, Tom!"

"Did I hurt you?" exclaims he pa.s.sionately. "t.i.ta, forgive me. To hurt you----"

"There, don't be a fool!" says t.i.ta, laughing. "My fingers are not broken, if that's what you mean. But you certainly _are _rough: and, after all"--mischievously--"I don't think I shall tell you that secret now."

"You must. I shan't sleep if I don't know it. You said I knew the heroine of it."

"Yes, you do indeed," laughing.

"And that I was always calling her names?"

"True; and I can't bear that, because"--gently--"I love her." She pauses, and goes on again very earnestly: "I love her with all my heart."

"I envy her," says Hescott. "I'm glad this mysterious stranger is a she."

"Why?"

"Oh, no matter; go on. Tell me more. What evil names have I called her?"

"The worst of all. You have called her an old maid--there!"

"Good heavens! what an atrocity! Surely--surely you malign me."

"No, I don't; I heard you. And it was to me, too, you said it."

"What! I called you an old maid!"

"Pouf! No!" laughing gaily. "That's out of your power."

"It is indeed," says Hescott slowly.

He is looking at her, the little, pretty, sweet, lovely thing! If she were a maid to-day, some chance--some small chance--might have been his.

"Well, I'll tell you about it," says she. She looks round her cautiously, in the funniest little way, as if expecting enemies in the bushes near her. Then she hesitates. "After all, I won't," says she, with the most delightful inconsistency. "It wouldn't be a secret if I did."