The Moonlit Way Part 90

"That's the best time to lose it," said Westmore. And to Barres: "She's bruised from head to foot and her neck hurts yet----"

"It is nothing," murmured Thessalie, looking smilingly at her lover.

Then they both glanced at Barres.

There was a silence. Side by side on the library lounge they continued to gaze expectantly at Barres. And when he got it into his head that this polite expectancy might express their desire for his early departure, he backed out again, embarra.s.sed and slightly irritated.

Thessalie called to him very sweetly:

"If you are looking for Dulcie, I left her a few minutes ago over by the wall-fountain in the rose arbour."

"Thanks," he said, and turned back through the hall, traversing it to the north veranda.

There was no sign of Dulcie in the garden or on the lawn. He walked slowly across the clipped gra.s.s, beyond the pool, and, turning to the right past a sun-dial, stepped into the long rose-arbour. At the further end of the blossoming tunnel he saw her seated on the low wall in the rear of the tea-house. Her head was turned toward the woods beyond.

When he was near her she heard him and looked around, was on the point of rising, but something in his expression held her motionless.

"Where have you been, Garry?"

He ignored the question, seated himself beside her on the wall, and drew both her hands into his. He saw the swift colour stain her face, the lovely, disconcerted eyes lower.

"Last night," he said, "did you come back as you promised?"

"Yes."

"And you found me gone."

She nodded.

"What could you have thought of me, Dulcie?"

"I--my thoughts were--not very clear."

"Are they clearer?"

Her head remained lowered but she raised her grey eyes to his. Her face had become very still and white.

"Dulcie," he said under his breath, "I am in love with you.... What will you do about it?"

And, after a little while:

"W-what shall I do, Garry?" she whispered.

"Love me. Can you?"

She remained silent.

"Will you?--Dulcie Fane!"

Her lips stirred, but no sound came.

"You are so wonderful," he said. "I am just realising that I began to fall in love with you a long time ago."

The declining sun sent a red shaft across the fields, painting every tree-trunk, gilding bramble and brake. A single ray touched the girl's white neck and turned her copper-tinted hair to burning gold.

"Do you love me? Can you love me, that way, Dulcie?"

She rose abruptly, and he rose too, retaining her hands; but as she turned her head from him he saw her mouth quiver.

"Dearest--dearest!" But she interrupted him:

"I want to tell you--that I don't understand why I should be called by my mother's maiden name.... I w-want you to know that I _don't_ understand it ... if that would make a difference--in your c-caring for me.... And I wish you to know that--that I love and wors.h.i.+p her memory--and that I am happy and proud--and _proud_--to bear her name."

"My darling----"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dulcie."

"And do you still want me?"

"You adorable child----"

"_Do_ you?"

"Of course I do----" He caught her in his arms, held her close, lifted her flushed face. "Now, tell me whether you can love _me_! Tell me everything that's hidden in your mind and heart!"

"Oh, Garry," she faltered, "I do belong to you. I belong to you anyway, because you made me. And I've always been in love with you--always!--always from the very beginning of the world, _Asth.o.r.e_!

And now--if you want me--this way--Garry _mo veel asth.o.r.e_----" Her hands crept from his breast to his shoulders; stole up around his neck. "Asth.o.r.e," she murmured; and their lips met in their first kiss.

Then she gravely turned her head and laid her cheek against his; and he heard her murmuring to herself:

"_Drahareen o machree, mo veel asth.o.r.e!_ This man--this man who takes my heart--and gives me his...."

"What are you murmuring there all to yourself?" he whispered, laughing and drawing her closer. But she only clung to him pa.s.sionately and her closed lids kept back the starting tears.

"What is it, dear?" he asked.

"H-happiness," she whispered, "and pride, perhaps.... And my love for you, Asth.o.r.e!"