Paddy The Next Best Thing Part 18

"I thought it would be deadly at Omeath," Lawrence was saying. "If it had not been for the mater, I should not have come, and, instead, it has been very pleasant. How often it happens that we start off on some trip we expect to enjoy thoroughly, and are disappointed all through; whereas we make martyrs of ourselves and undertake something we detest, and it turns out a pleasure from beginning to end."

Eileen looked a little thoughtful. The thought crossed her mind that he had not, then, came back for her.

"Yet you seemed happy enough here before?" she remarked at last.

"So I was," he replied at once; "and I had just the same feeling about coming in the first place. But then I did not know about you, Eileen."

"But you did this time," smiling.

"Three years is so long," he answered unblus.h.i.+ngly; "and I imagined, of course, you would have changed, or got married, or something. Most girls change very much in three years."

"Do they?" quietly.

"Yes; but you and Paddy are evidently different. I might have known you would be." He turned the subject deftly to a less dangerous theme, speaking of mutual friends, until a sudden cutting censure brought a remonstrance to her lips.

He looked into her face and changed his tone suddenly.

"All the black sheep are white to you, Eileen. You are too ideal. You look at everything through the spectacles of idealism, and expect too much of life. You would be wiser to try and harden your heart, and care a little less about everything. You seem to regard most of your fellow-creatures as possible angels, and all the time we are most of us rogues and scoundrels."

"I don't believe it," firmly.

"That's because you don't want to. All the same it is true. Half the world knows it, and makes no fuss; and the other half pretends to be blind for their own satisfaction."

"You only talk like this to tease me," she said; "but I like your honesty. A man who pretends to nothing and is something is so much nicer than the man who is nothing and pretends much."

"I am neither," he answered, "for I combine the two. I pretend nothing, and I don't care." She smiled a little in spite of herself. "You do pretend something, for you pretend that you do not care."

He looked into her eyes a moment, with a curious expression in his, and Eileen glanced away with embarra.s.sment. He was thinking for the hundredth time how sweet she was, and how--if only--?

He knew vaguely that the man who won her would win a treasure; but he loved his liberty, and his heart said "not yet," and so he contented himself with a look that might mean volumes, or nothing.

And Eileen was satisfied. He had paid no real attention to anyone but her, merely doing his duty as host to the rest of his guests, and, undoubtedly, that meant a good deal.

As a matter of fact it was so. Lawrence was nearer proposing that evening than he had ever been in his life before, and he could hardly himself have told what deterred him. Perhaps it was a question of the bandsmen finis.h.i.+ng their supper five minutes earlier than was expected-- upon so slight a thread hang the issues of life. Certainly, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, and his whole soul drawn toward the sweet-faced girl beside him, he felt himself on the brink of the plunge that would have changed all her life and his, when, quite unexpectedly, the band struck up in the distance.

At the first note, he sat up suddenly, as if he had been awakened, and instead of the question trembling on his lips he smiled a little, and said: "How cruelly the time has flown! I had no idea we had been here half an hour!" and then they both got up, and he gave her his arm back to the ball-room.

Eileen felt a queer little tremor that was almost fear, but she only answered in her usual quiet tone, and smiled up at the partner who came forward to claim her for the dance.

But the evening was not over yet, and another incident had still to add its mark upon the unfolding of the hours. Lawrence had still to have his dance with Paddy.

It came toward the end, when some of the guests, who had a long drive, had already departed, and the formality of the commencement of the evening had merged into a more free and easy air for all. Paddy had had a set of lancers with Jack, and Doreen and Kathleen and their partners, that had bordered upon a romp, and had made her eyes s.h.i.+ne, and her cheeks glow with radiant enjoyment, for she had the happy knack of throwing herself heart and soul into the moment, and in this instance the moment had been full of delight.

Lawrence found her trying to get cool again, while carrying on her usual flow of chatter, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the others; and with a smile, he remarked:

"I'm sorry to deprive you all, but this is my dance with Miss Adair."

"Goodness!" exclaimed Paddy in alarm. "Do I dance with you next?"

"According to my programme you do."

"Oh, that's all right," frankly. "I was only thinking my hair was rather untidy, and my face somewhat highly coloured for such an august occasion as a dance with your majesty."

"Your hair never looked better," he replied, "and your colour is most becoming."

"Really!" with a gay laugh. "If you keep this up for five minutes I shan't know myself. You must be careful, for the high honour of dancing with you alone is almost sufficient to unhinge my giddy brain."

"You could hardly dance with me and someone else at the same time," with corresponding lightness; "but I'm glad that you appreciate the honour so thoroughly."

"Appreciate it! Why, my dear man, I've been dying for this dance all the evening."

"May you be forgiven," he retorted as they glided away. Paddy was quite as good a dancer as Eileen when she gave herself up to it, and, with such a perfect waltzer as Lawrence, she could not fail to do so, even if she could not be prevailed upon to enjoy it in silence. So, as they glided round, she plied him with a string of eager questions relating to dancing and gayeties in far-off lands.

"You ought to get your father to take you abroad," he told her presently! "you'd enjoy all the novelty so tremendously."

"Should I meet a lot of nice, superior, cultured young men like you?"

"Well, hardly up to my standard," he laughed.

"Then I don't want to go. When I can talk to you, and dance with you, and gaze upon you here, why cross the sea to other climes?"

"I was thinking more of the countries."

"And have you ever seen anything in all the world so beautiful as the Mourne Mountains and Carlingford Loch?"

"Yes, many things."

"I don't believe it," stoutly.

"Well, come and see some of my photographs in my den."

"What! Enter the throne-room!" in mock amaze.

"Yes; why not?"

"Oh no 'why not' at all. I'm simply dying to go. I have been, ever since I can remember.--I'm wild with curiosity to know what kind of things an animal of your lofty nature collects in its den," and she followed him eagerly down a long pa.s.sage, and through a little conservatory into the large, airy room known as Lawrence's den.

When he had switched on the electric light, her eyes grew wide with interest and admiration.

"Well! if this isn't just all right," she exclaimed. "How daddy would love it!"

"It's somewhat warlike," glancing at his swords and weapons, "so you ought to feel at home."

"I?--Why?" in surprise.

"Because you are always trying to quarrel with me."

"Nonsense! I only tell you a few home truths for your good."