He put one arm round her. His face was very near her own, and his breath came thick and fast, but he waited for her permission still. In his own heart he made this kiss the crucial test of her faithfulness to him. But Elizabeth drew herself away. It seemed as though she found his eagerness distasteful.
"Then you don't care for me? You find that you don't love me!" said Percival, almost too sharply for a lover. "I may go back to England as soon as I like? I came only to see you. Tell me that my journey has been a useless one, and I'll go."
She smiled as she looked at him. "You have not forgotten how to be tyrannical," she said. "I hardly knew you when I first came in, because you looked so quiet and gentle. Don't be foolish, Percival."
"Oh, of course, it is folly for a man to love you," groaned Percival, releasing her hands and taking a step or two away from her. "You have mercy on every kind of folly but that. Well, I'll go back."
"No, you will not," said Elizabeth, calmly. "You will stay here and enjoy yourself, and go for a sail in the boat with us this evening, and eat oranges fresh from the trees, and play with the children. We are all going to take holiday whilst you are here, and you must not disappoint us."
"Then you must kiss me once, Elizabeth." But Percival's face was melting, and his voice had a half-laughing tone. "I must be bribed to do nothing."
"Very well, you shall be bribed," she answered, but with a rather heightened colour upon her cheek. And then she lifted up her face; but, as Percival perceived with a vague feeling of irritation, she merely suffered him to kiss her, and did not kiss him in return.
His next proceeding was to put his father through a searching catechism upon the antecedents and abilities of the tutor, Mr. John Stretton, who was by this time almost domiciled at the Villa Venturi. Mr. Heron's replies to his son's questions were so confused, and finished so invariably by a reference to Elizabeth, that Percival at last determined to see what he could extract from her. He waited for a day or two before opening the subject. He waited and watched. He certainly discovered nothing to justify the almost insane dislike and jealousy which he entertained with respect to Mr. Stretton; when he reasoned with himself he knew that he was prejudiced and unreasonable; but then he had a habit of considering that his prejudices should be attended to. He examined the children, hoping to find that the new tutor's scholarship might give him a loophole for criticism; but he could find nothing to blame. In fact, he was driven reluctantly to admit that the tutor's knowledge was far wider and deeper than his own, although Percival was really no mean classical scholar, and valued himself upon a thorough acquaintance with modern literature of every kind. He was foiled there, and was therefore driven back upon the subject of the tutor's antecedents.
"Who is this man Stretton, Elizabeth?" he asked one day. "My father says you know all about him."
"I?" said Elizabeth, opening her eyes. "I know nothing more than Uncle Alfred does."