My Lady Caprice Part 31

"We must take them back home," she said at last.

"We shall miss our train, Lisbeth."

"But," and here she blushed most delightfully, "there is really no hurry; we can take a--a later one."

"So be it," I said, and laid our course accordingly.

For a time there was silence, during which the Imp, as if in momentary expectation of an attack by bloodthirsty foes, scowled about him, pistol in hand, keeping, as he said, "his weather eye lifting," while Dorothy glanced from Lisbeth to me and back again with puzzled brows.

"I do believe you have been marrying each other!" she said suddenly.

The Imp forgot all about his "weather eye" and stared aghast.

"'Course not!" he cried at last. "Uncle d.i.c.k wouldn't do such a thing, would you, Uncle d.i.c.k?"

"Imp I have--I do confess it."

"Oh!" he exclaimed in a tone of deepest tragedy. "And you let him go and do it, Auntie Lisbeth?"

"He was so very, very persistent, Imp," she sad, actually turning crimson beneath his reproachful eye.

"Don't be too hard on us, Imp," I pleaded.

"I s'pose it can't be helped now," he said, a little mollified, but frowning sternly, nevertheless.

"No," I answered, with my eyes upon Lisbeth's lovely, blus.h.i.+ng face, "it certainly can't be helped now."

"And you'll never do it again?"

"Never again, Imp."

"Then I forgive you, only why--why did you do it?"

"Well, you see, my Imp, I have an old house in the country, a very cosy old place, but it's lonely, horribly lonely, to live by one's self.

I've wanted somebody to help me to live in it for a long time, but n.o.body would you know, Imp. At last our Auntie Lisbeth has promised to take care of the house and me, to fill the desolate rooms with her voice and sweet presence and my empty life with her life. You can't quite understand how much this means to me now, Imp, but you will some day, perhaps."

"But are you going to take our Auntie Lisbeth away from us?" cried Dorothy.

"Yes, dear," I answered, "but--"

"Oh, I don't like that one bit!" exclaimed the Imp.

"But you shall come there and stay with us as often as you wish," said Lisbeth.

"That would be perfectly beautiful!" cried Dorothy.

"Yes, but when?" inquired the Imp gloomily.

"Soon," I answered.

"Very soon!" said Lisbeth.

"Will you promise to be 'Timothy Bone, the bo'sun,' an' the 'Black Knight,' an' 'Little-John' whenever I want you to--so help you Sam, Uncle d.i.c.k?"

"I will, Imp."

"An' make me a long sword with a--a 'deadly point'?"

"Yes," I nodded, "and show you some real ones, too."

"Real ones?" he cried.

"Oh, yes, and armour as well; there's lots of it in the old house, you know."

"Let's go now!" he cried, nearly upsetting the boat in his eagerness.

"Oh! O d.i.c.k!" cried Lisbeth at this moment, "d.i.c.k--there's Aunt!"

"Aunt?" I repeated.

"Aunt Agatha, and she sees us; look!"

Turning my head, I beheld a most unexpected sight. Advancing directly upon us was the old boat, that identical, weather-beaten tub of a boat which Lisbeth and I had come so near ending our lives together, the which has already been told in these Chronicles. On the rowing-thwart sat Peter, the coachman, and in the stern-sheets, very grim and stiff in the back, her lorgnettes at her eyes, was Lady Warburton.

Escape was quite out of the question, and in half a dozen strokes of the oar we were alongside and close under the battery of the lorgnettes.

"Elizabeth," she began in her most ponderous manner, ignoring my presence altogether, "Elizabeth, child, I blush for you."

"Then, Aunt, please don't," cried Lisbeth; "I can do quite enough of that for myself. I'm always blus.h.i.+ng lately," and as if to prove her words she immediately proceeded to do so.

"Elizabeth," proceeded Lady Warburton, making great play with her lorgnettes, "your very shameless, ungrateful letter I received last night. This morning I arose at an objectionably early hour, travelled down in a draughty train, and here I am out on a damp and nasty river in a leaky boat, with my feet horribly wet, but determined to save you from an act which you may repent all your days."

"Excuse me," I said, bowing deeply, "but such heroic devotion cannot be sufficiently appreciated and admired. In Lisbeth's name I beg to thank you; nevertheless."

"Mr. Brent, I believe?" she said in a tone of faint surprise, as though noticing my presence for the first time.

"At your service, madam!" I answered with another bow.

"Then I must ask you to convey my ward back to Fane Court immediately; she and the children will accompany me to London at once."

"My dear Lady Warburton," I said, fronting the lorgnettes with really admirable fort.i.tude, "it grieves me to deny you this request, but believe me, it is impossible!"

"Impossible!" she repeated.

"Quite!" I answered. "You here behold the good s.h.i.+p Joyful Hope, bound for the 'Land of Heart's Delight,' and we aboard are all determined on our course."

"'An' the wind blows fair, an' our helm's a-lee, so it's heave, my mariners, all--O!'" cried the Imp in his nautical voice.

"Dear me!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lady Warburton, staring. "Elizabeth, be so obliging as to tell me what it all means. Why have you dragged these children from their beds to come philandering upon a horrid river at such an hour?"