Bertie was himself in a moment. This was to be his mate; he knew it for certain at that instant, by the way she held her head and looked directly at him as she came into the room. The sudden joy of her presence made the red-faced spluttering man in front of him of no account, and anger against him not worth holding. Only she must be guarded against annoyance, of all sorts and for ever.
He took a step towards her and asked after her mother. If the Vicar had been master enough of himself to be able to take the same natural line, the situation could have been retrieved and he have got out of it with some remains of dignity. It was his only chance, and he failed to take it.
"Mollie," he said, in the dictatorial voice that he habitually used towards those whom he conceived to owe him deference, and had used not infrequently to her in the days when he had represented protective authority to her, "I have told this young man that it isn't fitting that he should be alone here with you, while your mother is ill. She will want you. Besides that, he has acted with gross rudeness towards me. Will you please tell him to go? and I will speak to you afterwards."
Bertie gave her no time to reply. He laughed at the absurd threat with which the speech had ended, and said: "Mr. Mercer seems to think he has some sort of authority over you, Mollie. It's what I came here to ask you for myself. If you'll give it me, my dear, I'll ask him to go, and it will be me that will speak to you afterwards."
It was one of the queerest proposals that a girl had ever had, but confidence had come to him, and the assurance that she was his already. The bliss of capitulation might be postponed for a time. The important thing for the moment was to show the Vicar how matters stood, and would continue to stand, and to get rid of him once and for all.
Mollie answered to his sudden impulse as a boat answers at once to its helm. "Yes," she said simply. "I'll do what you want. Mr. Mercer, I think you have been making mistakes. I'll ask you to leave us now."
She had moved to Bertie's side. He put his hand on her shoulder, and they stood there together facing the astonished Vicar. Something fixed and sure in their conjunction penetrated the noxious mists of his mind, and he saw that he had made one hideous mistake after another. Shame overtook him, and he made one last effort to catch at the vanishing skirts of his dignity.
"Oh, if it's like that," he said with a gulp, "I should like to be the first to congratulate you."
He held out his hand. Neither of them made any motion to take it, but stood there together looking at him until he had turned and left the room.