After the scorching and crowded streets, the river, with its green, tree-shaded banks, was indeed a pleasant change; and, had she been free from care, May would have greatly enjoyed watching the numerous gay boats and launches filled with happy holiday-makers. But the presence of Mr. Lang—vulgar, fussy, and pretentious—spoiled everything, and she avoided him as much as possible, greatly to her aunt's disgust.
The island at which they presently arrived was very small; and so crowded with people that at another time the scene would have amused May. They landed with some difficulty, amid the crowd of skiffs, punts, and canoes, which were moored to the banks; and had to walk warily, not to tread upon their late occupants, who were now grouped round every variety of tea equipage, arrayed in every kind of costume. One or two people, ostentatious like themselves, were attended by liveried servants to turn the whole thing into a burlesque; but the great mass had spread their tea with their own hands, and it was comical to see how their ideas of a picnic varied. Here would be a homely meal with thick enamelled tea-things, huge chunks of bread-and-butter, and shrimps or watercress for a relish. Next door would be an aristocratic party with a silver teapot, fairy-like china, expensive cakes, and fruit on artistic dessert plates. Here a stout materfamilias, purple with the heat, struggled to satisfy her hungry brood of eight with hastily buttered rolls; there a pair of lovers, oblivious of all else, sat partaking of nectar and ambrosia, in imagination a thousand miles away. Everywhere was good humour, laughter, and happiness.
At last, after his usual bustle, Mr. Lang contrived to secure a vacant spot for his party; though not without an angry argument with some plainly dressed people who, with scant respect for African millionaires, declined to move their common delft tea-service to make way for his costly Dresden. Whilst the footman spread the cloth May sat abstractedly gazing over the sunlit river, when suddenly she caught a glimpse in an approaching boat of a figure which made her heart leap. Surely that stalwart young man in flannels, rowing two girls towards the island, was Harold Inglis! With consummate skill he steered his cockleshell craft to the bank, then helped his sisters out, and, carrying a basket, came to find a place to sit down.
"What a handsome girl!" murmured more than one of Mr. Lang's party as Esther advanced with her queenly gait. May, delighted, rose to greet her. "How wonderful to meet you here!" exclaimed Miss Inglis. "Harold had to come up to town on business, and we persuaded him to bring us up the river."
"So glad to see you again, Mrs. Burnside," said the young doctor as they shook hands; his honest English face flushing as his glance met hers. That glance and that handclasp seemed to throw a flood of light upon the secret places of May's soul; for suddenly she realised that she loved him better than her life. He was, and always must be, the one man in the world to her.
Miss Waller was not pleased at this addition to their party; but she could not interfere when Mr. Lang pressed the Inglises to join the circle assembled at tea. Nor could they well refuse: though independent Esther insisted on making use of the provisions they had brought with them. Harold stationed himself beside May, as a matter of course, and contrived, under cover of the lively chatter of the rest, to tell her about the new patients he had secured at Beachbourne, and hear what she had been doing in London. It was a very harmless, matter-of-fact conversation, but it drew down many jealous glances from Mr. Lang, which May perceived, but did not heed. Why should she not enjoy this brief moment of happiness?
"Shall I see you again before I leave? I'm going back on Monday," Harold observed wistfully, when the tea-things had been packed up for the return journey.
"If he ever comes again!"
But she shook her head, knowing it was useless to invite him to call upon her aunt; nor could she promise to visit Windermere Mansions. "We shall be returning the end of next week, I hope," she answered hurriedly, sorry to seem so inhospitable. "I shall be so glad to leave London!"