Anthony Lyveden Part 24

The two finished their beer, and George retired somewhat comforted.

As he had predicted, their attendance of the meet the next morning was only effected at the expense of more patience than Alison possessed.

He was forced, in fact, to borrow from Anthony. Indeed, he afterwards confessed that, but for the latter's presence, he should undoubtedly have committed an aggravated a.s.sault.

The vicinity of Buck's Folly proved to be suspiciously vacant, and upon arrival at the standpoint itself if was instantly and painfully clear that the b.u.mbles had been mistaken. A pa.s.sing butcher, when interrogated, grinningly vouchsafed the information that the meet was at Saddle Tree Cross, a spot of which all the occupants of the car had heard, but the way to which no one of them could tell.

Swelling with importance, Mr. b.u.mble produced a map, and George's face fell. He had seen that map before--from a distance. So had others.

No one but Mr. b.u.mble had ever seen it at close quarters. Unhappily for all concerned, the latter's accomplishments did not include map-reading, an omission distressingly obvious to every one but himself. To follow his directions was fatal. Failure to appreciate his directions was at once easier and more disastrous. What was still more unfavourable was that, in possessing himself of the map, Mr.

b.u.mble became possessed of a devil. There was no doubt about it. From being the most kindly of masters he became a snarling absurdity, whose endeavours simultaneously to study the canvas, observe the configuration of the country-side, and rave into the speaking-tube were consistently vain. George raised his eyes to heaven and prepared for the worst....

This came almost immediately.

After having obediently turned the car round, George was peremptorily advised that, after all, he had been facing the right way. Mr. b.u.mble rather unfairly added that in his opinion the fool who had made the map ought to be prosecuted. The warmth with which he committed this belief to the speaking-tube rendered it not so much inaudible as incoherent, and George, who believed it to be a further direction, had to ask him to repeat the remark. By the time Mr. b.u.mble had realized that he was being addressed and had placed his ear to the tube, George had concluded his inquiry and was patiently listening at the opposite end....

With such a beginning, the rest was easy. The wheels of wrath were greased. Thereafter it was no longer a question of revolution, but of speed. At times the velocity attained was appalling.

Seven hideous miles slunk staggering by.

Mrs. b.u.mble, of course, had been in tears from the outset. Anthony, as we know, was busily engaged in administering comfort, temporal and spiritual. The difficulty was to get George to take the nourishment.

"The fool's like a drowning man," he protested, "with his arms round your neck. Your only chance is to hit him under the jaw. Get out and do it."

Mr. b.u.mble had just formed and blasphemously announced the horrifying resolve to return to Buck's Folly and start all over again, when Anthony heard a horse whinny. In a flash he was on the running-board and touching his hat.

"I think we're just there, sir," he ventured.

Mr. b.u.mble hesitated, George set his foot upon the accelerator, and a moment later they swept round a bend to see the familiar medley of cars and dog-carts, bicycles and phaetons, saddle-horses and governess-cars, writhing below them upon a high-road into which the lane they were using almost immediately debouched.

With a sigh of relief, Mr. b.u.mble dropped the map and proceeded to mop his face....

Comparatively, the chauffeur's troubles were over. After such a drubbing, the nuisance of the congestion to which they were soon contributing was like a flick on the collar, and ten minutes later the car was berthed safely with two or three others upon an ap.r.o.n of turf.

Mr. and Mrs. b.u.mble alighted, and George and Anthony were left to themselves.

Then another car squirmed out of the ruck of vehicles and came rolling on to the sward. The gentleman ensconced upon its back seat was for the saddle, and plainly glad of it. His careless, handsome face was radiant, his manner full of an easy, inoffensive confidence, his gaiety--to judge from his companions' laughter--infectious. His turn-out was simple, but faultless. Despite the fact that he was sitting between Lady Touchstone and Valerie, Anthony liked the look of him.

Since their experience upon the edge of the cliff, Lyveden had not till now set eyes upon the lady. Unwilling to visit her home, he had inquired by letter how she was doing. After receiving two little notes, each of which a.s.sured him that she was not one penny the worse, he wrote no more. Letters and notes were sober and to the point. Any one might have read them. The truth is, the two were love-shy.

Give to a dog a finer and meatier bone than he has ever dreamed of, and mark his reception of your favour. Ten to one he will be afraid of it.

He will walk about the fragment delicately; possibly he will touch it with the tip of an envious tongue; presently he will lie down at a respectful distance, watching it with big eyes. The thing is too vast for him. He must have time to become familiar with his stupendous luck.

So with Miss French and Lyveden. The G.o.ds had tossed the two t.i.tle-deeds of a dream so wonderful that they were frightened. The gift was too precious to be handled at once. Like the poor dog they must have time....

You will understand, gentlemen, that this was no ordinary affair of love. Convenience had had no hand in it. My tale had been shorter if she had thrust but the tip of a finger into the pie. Pity, Selfishness, Grat.i.tude--none of the stock emotions went to the making of the foundations of this fabric. It was not founded at all. Neither had it grown out of friends.h.i.+p. It had no infancy. Had the two never met, it is probable that--circ.u.mstances permitting--each would some day have fallen in love with somebody else. And that would have been a regular business. Convenience, Friends.h.i.+p, and other hard-working matchmakers would all have put shoulders to the wheel and clapped one another on the back when the banns were published. The fact that the two had met saved, in a way, infinite trouble.

Valerie had many swains, and more than a few women had looked twice at Anthony. Such hearts, however, as had bleated for their sympathy had either bleated altogether in vain, or, finding the sympathy vouchsafed not at all what they wanted, bleated more fiercely than before. All the same, the two were not seraphim. They were mortal enough, and, if more than ordinarily attractive, revealed upon close examination a very ordinary collection of failings. The wonder was not in themselves.

The fact that their natures were in just accord, was, at the most, curious. It was true, nevertheless. Each wanted precisely what the other was ready to give. Their personalities agreed like two indentures--proved themselves mutual elixirs. The wonder began and ended when they encountered one another. It was then that the seed of love flashed into bloom. Miracles alone beget miracles. Parallel lines had met.

The sight of Valerie gladdened Anthony's eyes. He sat very still in his seat, staring under the wind screen and wondering whether she would recognize his back. He hoped that it was not because of her mishap that she was not in a habit. He could hardly be expected to divine the true reason. This was, shortly, that the lady, who had expected to see him, could not enjoy a pastime from partic.i.p.ation in which footmen are for a variety of reasons so rigorously debarred. Incidentally, she had seen Anthony before he had seen her, and the smile with which he had credited her companion's bonhomie was due to his presence alone. Had this been explained to the young sportsman, as one of Valerie's swains it would have spoiled his day. As it was, he emerged from the car with the genial air of one who is in high favour, and, after a word with a groom who had come up bustling, mounted a good-looking grey and, waving his hat to the ladies, proceeded to join his fellows with his eyes sparkling and his chin on his shoulder.

"Mason," said Lady Touchstone.

The chauffeur, who had descended, sprang to the door.

"Open the door." The man did so, and her ladys.h.i.+p alighted. "I'm going to look at the hounds. You'd better come with me."

"Very good, my lady."

The pair moved off in single file.

Though the office was new to him, the dignity of Mason's demeanour was irreproachable. It was clear that the blood of flunkeys was in his veins. As a matter of fact, one hundred years before, his grandfather had done much escort duty, with a band on his hat and a cane in his hand. Though Mason did not know it, the manner had been bred in his bone.

"'Ere's a lady wants yer."

This was quite true. Miss French had not put it so bluntly, but it was not her fault that the messenger she had selected knew a footman when he saw one.

Major Anthony Lyveden thanked his informant with a smile. Had it been Caliban himself that had growled the message, the smile would have been as ready. Such a summons lost nothing in the telling.

George received the intimation that his colleague would be back in a minute apathetically. He was yet in some dudgeon. Beyond heaving a sigh charged with the resignation of a martyr who remembers that he has left his gloves in the torture-chamber, he evinced no interest at all.

Anthony crossed the turf to where Miss French sat smiling in a brown laudaulette, and touched his hat. Appearances had to be kept up.

Valerie inclined her head gravely enough, but the look with which she honoured his action was not of this world. Anthony felt astoundingly rich.

"How are you?" he asked anxiously.

"Perfectly all right."

"Sure?"

Valerie nodded, smiling.

"I wasn't even tired the next day," she said. "Were your arms very stiff?"

"Only for a day or two."

"And Patch?"

"As right as rain."

"Will you be free on Sunday?" said Valerie.

"From two o'clock on."

"Will you come to Bell Hammer?"

"I will," said Anthony.

"I'll come to meet you with the two-seater. To-morrow I'm going away.