Anthony Lyveden Part 25

Aunt Harriet has to go to London. Have--have you been back ... since?"

"To your window?"

"To our window," said Valerie.

Anthony nodded.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I--I can't keep away."

It was true. The place fascinated him. Tremendous happenings had made it a shrine. Already wors.h.i.+pful as Valerie's bower, the ledge was freshly consecrate to two most excellent saints--Love Confessed and Life Triumphant.

"I thought you had," said Valerie. "I saw your footsteps. And--oh, please don't go so close to the edge, Anthony. Promise me you won't.

It--it frightens me so."

Love lent the words an earnestness which there was no mistaking. My lady leaned forward, with her hand gripping the woodwork. There was a strained, pleading look upon the beautiful face, the proud lips humbling themselves, the glorious eyes beggars--Royalty upon its knees.

Quite naturally, Anthony's heart answered her.

"I promise, sweet," he said.

The vocative transfigured the lady. Anthony found himself mirrored in two dew-burning stars. To deck her favourite, Nature had robbed the firmament. To see such larceny, it is not surprising that the round world stood still....

With a supreme effort Anthony pulled himself together.

"Patch is too funny," he said. "He'll come as far as the bank--you know, below the thicket--and not a step farther. He just stands there and wags his tail apologetically. And there at the foot of the bank he waits until I return."

Valerie laughed merrily.

"Poor little dog," she said. "It was enough to----"

"I say, Val, did I leave my flask in the car?"

The two had been too much absorbed to observe the return of the fresh-faced youngster, and the latter's words cut their communion short, much as the sudden rasp of curtain-rings scatters the rear of slumber. It was providential that the world was moving again. The suspension of perpetual motion would have been bound to excite remark.

As it was, the new-comer was upon the very edge of staring, when--

"Let me introduce Mr. Every--Major Lyveden," said Valerie. The two men nodded mechanically and murmured politeness. "Yes, you did, Peter.

Here you are." She plucked the lost property from the bowels of the seat and rose to restore it. "By the way," she added adroitly, "now's your chance. Major Lyveden'll tell you whether you ought to wash a horse's legs."

Thus appealed to--

"Unless," said Anthony, "you've got a groom in a million, I shouldn't advise it. It means mud-fever."

"There you are," said Valerie, doubly triumphant.

The youth's face was a study. Respect was fairly bundling Astonishment out of the way. Anthony had spoken as one having authority, and Every was visibly impressed.

"You really think so, sir?"

With one accord Valerie and Anthony smiled. The employment of the t.i.tle was at once so irregular and so appropriate. Instinct had shown herself to be above raiment. Surely no manner of man ever was paid so exquisite a compliment.

A motor-horn coughed, and Anthony glanced over his shoulder. Then--

"I must go," he said quietly. "Good-bye."

He touched his cap with a smile and left them. Every gazed after him with his hat in his hand. Then he looked at Valerie with wide eyes.

"But--but he's a footman," he said stupidly.

When upon the following day Anthony admitted that he had never seen the view from The Beacon, the Alisons, all three, cried out upon the omission with no uncertain voice.

The four were breakfasting.

"But," declared Anne, "you simply must see it. It's the most wonderful view in the world."

Anthony doubted this. He did not say so, of course, but he would have staked a month's wages that he could have shown them a finer. As it was, he expressed politely enthusiastic astonishment.

"It is, really," said Betty. "And the tints at this time of year--why, even George raves about it!"

"That's right," said her husband. "Never lose an opportunity of insult. Why 'even George'? Can't a chauffeur have a soul?"

"Who went to sleep at the Russian Ballet?" said Betty.

"Go on," said George. "Rake over the muck-heap. And what if I did?

The music suggested slumber. I merely adopted the suggestion."

"Did it also suggest that you should snore?" said his wife. "Or was that your own idea?"

George touched Anthony on the arm and nodded towards the speaker.

"Look at the scorn in that eye," he said. "See? The one that's looking our way."

With an air of unutterable contempt, Betty lighted a cigarette and then hurled the matchbox at her unsuspecting spouse. The missile ricocheted off his chin and fell noisily into the cup of tea which was halfway to his lips....

When order had been restored--

"He must see it at once," said Betty. "Before the leaves fall."

"The view, or the ballet?" said George.

"Idiot!" She turned to Anne. "Why don't you take him this afternoon?

It's his day out, and you know you can always go."

"Yes, please do," said Anthony.

He could not very well have said anything else. Besides, Anne was all right. He liked her. There was, of course, but one woman in the world. Still Anne was a good sort, and he would not have hurt her feelings for anything.

The matter was arranged then and there.