The Intrusion of Jimmy Part 27

"I wouldn't ask anyone else. But you're--different, somehow. I don't know what I mean. We hardly know each other. But--"

She stopped again; and still he was dumb.

"I feel so alone," she said very quietly, almost to herself.

Something seemed to break in Jimmy's head. His brain suddenly cleared. He took a step forward.

A huge shadow blackened the white gra.s.s. Jimmy wheeled round. It was McEachern.

"I have been looking for you, Molly, my dear," he said, heavily. "I thought you must have gone to bed."

He turned to Jimmy, and addressed him for the first time since their meeting in the bedroom.

"Will you excuse us, Mr. Pitt?"

Jimmy bowed, and walked rapidly toward the house. At the door, he stopped and looked back. The two were standing where he had left them.

CHAPTER XVI

A MARRIAGE ARRANGED

Neither Molly nor her father had moved or spoken while Jimmy was covering the short strip of turf that ended at the stone steps of the house. McEachern stood looking down at her in grim silence. His great body against the dark ma.s.s of the castle wall seemed larger than ever in the uncertain light. To Molly, there was something sinister and menacing in his att.i.tude. She found herself longing that Jimmy would come back. She was frightened. Why, she could not have said. It was as if some instinct told her that a crisis in her affairs had been reached, and that she needed him. For the first time in her life, she felt nervous in her father's company. Ever since she was a child, she had been accustomed to look upon him as her protector; hut, now, she was afraid.

"Father!" she cried.

"What are you doing out here?"

His voice was tense and strained.

"I came out because I wanted to think, father, dear."

She thought she knew his moods, but this was one that she had never seen. It frightened her.

"Why did he come out here?"

"Mr. Pitt? He brought me a wrap."

"What was he saying to you?"

The rain of questions gave Molly a sensation of being battered. She felt dazed, and a little mutinous. What had she done that she should be a.s.sailed like this?

"He was saying nothing," she said, rather shortly.

"Nothing? What do you mean? What was he saying? Tell me!"

Molly's voice shook as she replied.

"He was saying nothing," she repeated. "Do you think I'm not telling the truth, father? He had not spoken a word for ever so long. We just walked up and down. I was thinking, and I suppose he was, too.

At any rate, he said nothing. I--I think you might believe me."

She began to cry quietly. Her father had never been like this before. It hurt her.

McEachern's manner changed in a flash. In the shock of finding Jimmy and Molly together on the terrace, he had forgotten himself. He had had reason, to be suspicious. Sir Thomas Blunt, from whom he had just parted, had told him a certain piece of news which had disturbed him. The discovery of Jimmy with Molly had lent an added significance to that piece of news. He saw that he had been rough.

In a moment, he was by her side, his great arm round her shoulder, petting and comforting her as he had done when she was a child. He believed her word without question; and his relief made him very tender. Gradually, the sobs ceased. She leaned against his arm.

"I'm tired, father," she whispered.

"Poor little girl. We'll sit down."

There was a seat at the end of the terrace. McEachern picked Molly up as if she had been a baby, and carried her to it. She gave a little cry.

"I didn't mean I was too tired to walk," she said, laughing tremulously. "How strong you are, father! If I was naughty, you could take me up and shake me till I was good, couldn't you?"

"Of course. And send you to bed, too. So, you, be careful, young woman."

He lowered her to the seat. Molly drew the cloak closer round her, and s.h.i.+vered.

"Cold, dear?"

"No."

"You s.h.i.+vered."

"It was nothing. Yes, it was," she went on quickly; "it was. Father, will you promise me something?"

"Of course. What?"

"Don't ever be angry with me like that again, will you? I couldn't bear it. Really, I couldn't. I know it's stupid of me, but it hurt.

You don't know how it hurt."

"But, my dear--"

"Oh, I know it's stupid. But--"

"But, my darling, it wasn't so. I was angry, but it wasn't with you."

"With--? Were you angry with Mr. Pitt?"

McEachern saw that he had traveled too far. He had intended that Jimmy's existence should be forgotten for the time being. He had other things to discuss. But it was too late now. He must go forward.

"I didn't like to see you out here alone with Mr. Pitt, dear," he said. "I was afraid--"

He saw that he must go still further forward. It was more than, awkward. He wished to hint at the undesirability of an entanglement with Jimmy without admitting the possibility of it. Not being a man, of nimble brain, he found this somewhat beyond his powers.

"I don't like him," he said, briefly. "He's crooked."