The conversation was broken at that point by the incursion of several young people whose activities and sociabilities for the afternoon would radiate from this garden terrace. Norman Eldridge was among them, and with him were the two young men whom he had invited to Hayslope. These he had already presented to Pamela, and they were now on either side of her, while Horsham thus dispossessed, was making himself agreeable to other guests.
The hot afternoon wore on to the coolness of evening. There was perpetual activity of white-clad youthful figures on the tennis courts; some inspection—mostly in couples—of the ancient Castle, which stood massive and grim overlooking the gay expanse of garden that surrounded it, and as if it would never quite adapt itself to its present peaceful and defenceless state; appreciation of garden beauties—also mostly in couples; general conversation from groups overlooking the courts; play of teacups on the terrace; and a general atmosphere of untroubled youthful enjoyment, tampered by the less vociferous contentment of the elders who watched or took some share in it.
But youth is seldom altogether untroubled, even when in the mass it appears most delightfully free from care. Pamela, for instance, might have forgotten, for the happy afternoon, the cloud that hung over her home, as her parents whom it most concerned seemed to be doing; the experience of a first proposal had not greatly affected her, though probably when she came to think it over alone it would seem more important than it did now. But she was unhappy about Norman.
Was he avoiding her? The idea came to her in the course of the afternoon, and grew. She was not entirely guiltless of a wish to avoid him, at first, or at least to appear to be doing so. She was not quite pleased with him, but her displeasure would melt if he sought her out, as he might be expected to do, and proved to her that she had nothing over which to disturb herself. He had more than one opportunity of securing a word or two with her apart. Almost invariably he had done so on such occasions as this, if only to share with her some laughing appreciation of the company in which they found themselves. He had produced for her inspection the first instalment of his promised supply of young men; the grin with which he had introduced them to her had shown that their conversation on that subject was in his mind, and he must have wanted to hear her observations, and to make some of his own. She was quite ready to oblige him, as a stepping-stone to an exchange of views upon a subject more serious, for her slight resentment against him soon disappeared in face of his evident wish to maintain the usual friendly relations. He did accompany her and one of his friends, who had expressed a desire to see the Castle—in Pamela's company—on a round of inspection, and was quite friendly and amusing. But when she was ready to make it easy for him to talk to her alone, he did not give her the opportunity, and by and by she became sure that he did not want to talk to her alone. Then she retired into her shell, and showed him that she was displeased with him. He didn't seem to mind that either, and pretended not to notice it. He did his best to make her laugh, and it was unfortunate that once at least he succeeded. This made her angry with herself, and she withdrew from the group which Norman was so successful in entertaining. One of his friends—the one who had inspected the Castle with them—withdrew with her, but he found that the wind had changed and the sun of her amiability no longer shone on him. She detached herself and went straight up to where Fred Comfrey was engaged in conversation with the Pershore niece, and presently Norman had the felicity of seeing her walk off with him towards the retirement of groves unseen. Though carefully refraining from a look in his direction, she was fully aware of the annoyance he immediately showed, and was glad of it.
When she had got Fred alone she was inclined to be annoyed with herself for having been forced to that means of asserting herself, and wished she had chosen Horsham for a tête-à-tête. Her feelings were warm towards Horsham, who had behaved well under his rejection, and she had seen him eyeing her rather wistfully as she and Fred had passed him. Still, Norman would not have disliked that as much as this; and this needn't last long. Fred did not appear to such advantage here as at home at Hayslope, where his status was well understood and need not be taken into account. He did not seem to belong of right to the company assembled. He had, in fact, bicycled over to Pershore Rectory, with the faint hope that the Rector's daughters, whom he knew slightly, might be going to the Castle, where he knew that Pamela was to spend the afternoon, and would take him with them. His hopes had been fulfilled. The Rector's daughters were "getting on," and could neither send away a young man reported to be eligible on the plea of an engagement, or give up their afternoon's pleasure. But he was inclined to wish that his plan had not succeeded. He had been quite well received, but he was not in flannels and could not play tennis; so that he never merged with the rest, and there was a sort of air of apology about him which did not show him up to advantage. He had never been to Pershore Castle before, and was apologetic about that, to Pamela, explaining rather anxiously exactly how he came to be there, and giving her the very impression which his explanations were intended to remove—that he had got himself in there on her account. This did not please her at all; nor did his way of taking her invitation to a stroll apart. She divined a difference in his attitude towards her, though there was nothing in his speech at which she could take offence. Her invitation was made to appear a special mark of favour, and yet one to which he seemed to think he had some right. For the first time in her intercourse with him she was forced to take into account his admiration of her, which she had hitherto been able to set aside.
She asked him, rather shortly, what it was that her father had talked to him about, for she had not seen him since that afternoon. To her surprise he said that it had nothing to do with the quarrel, and gave her to understand that there were subjects which men discussed between themselves and kept to themselves. He said this in a half-jocular manner, not in the best of taste, and she had an uneasy suspicion that she herself might have been the subject of their conversation, but immediately rejected it. Fred seemed, anyhow, to be less in awe of her father than he had shown himself until now, and she did not like that, for she thought that deference was due from him. She was in fact, coming very quickly round to Norman's stated opinion of Fred—that he might have made a success of his job, whatever it was, and done well in the war, but he was an outsider all the same. She had labelled this view as snobbery, and Norman had said: "All right, then, I'm a snob. Let's leave it at that."
Perhaps Fred, not responsive to fine shades, but sharpened by his feeling for her, and under the uneasy influence of a false shame at being where he was, divined that he was losing ground in her estimation, for he suddenly plumped out; "Well, this is the last of holidays for me. I'm off to London to get into harness again."
That changed the current of her thoughts about him. As a bold adventurer on the sea of life he was worthy of respect, and good wishes. She gave him her good wishes, and he stoically refrained from asking anything else of her, though he would have given a good deal for some word of regret that he was leaving so soon, or of desire for his return. Still, she was charmingly friendly again, and he took leave of her, and very soon afterwards of Pershore Castle, thinking that his appearance there had not turned out so badly after all. He had actually made no plans to go to London, or anywhere else, in the immediate future; his announcement of departure had been an inspiration of the moment. He would never get any further with her, hanging about Hayslope. Her tone towards him had shown him that plainly. He was a fool to have counted a little upon that surprising and gratifying invitation of hers to a few minutes of intimacy in the middle of a crowd, and to have tried to advance himself a step. And yet— What had it meant but that she was beginning to want him—a little, sometimes—as he wanted her, always. She might not know it, and she had certainly not seemed to want him very much when she had got him apart; but the stirring of her heart towards him, surely it had begun! He would go away, as soon as possible, and plunge into work, and every now and then, at intervals not too close, he would come back, and tell her of what he had been doing. She would miss him. Would she miss him? He hoped so; he thought so. He was not an altogether unhappy young man as he pedalled himself back to Hayslope.
But he had left behind him an unhappy young woman. Norman was furious with Pamela now, wouldn't look at her, much less speak to her. And she was without the conviction to uphold her that she had done right. Her eyes had been opened. She was ashamed of herself for having given Fred that mark of confidence. Norman was right. He wasn't of their sort, and it didn't do to go outside the pale for your friends. Neither of those young men whom Norman had introduced to her would have made her feel uncomfortable, as Fred had, if she had given them an ordinary mark of friendship. Pamela had burnt her fingers, for she had wanted Norman to take her invitation to Fred as rather more than an ordinary mark of friendship. He had done so, and she was not pleased with herself, nor with him, nor with Fred. But of course she wasn't going to show him that. She took no more notice of him for the rest of the afternoon than he did of her, but she made herself particularly agreeable to the more coming-on of his two friends. But this wasn't a great success either, for the friend told Norman that evening, with the attractive candour of a friend, that he thought his cousin was a peach, but somewhat hectic in her mirth, which was exactly what Pamela wasn't as a general rule.
Horsham happened to be in Judith's company when Pamela went away with Fred. He found Judith's company soothing after the laceration of spirit he had lately undergone. He had conscientiously examined himself upon Pamela's statement to him about Judith, trying to look at her with the eyes that had been attributed to him, just to see if there was anything in it, as yet unknown to himself. Certainly she was a very pretty girl, and now he came to look at her more closely not really a child any longer. It would not be at all surprising if some fellow fell in love with her, pretty soon. But she did not arouse in him the feelings that Pamela did. She was a delightful companion, and as a sister, if he ever had the luck to marry Pamela, she would be very dear to him—he felt sure of that. Yes, in a way he really loved her already, but not in that way at all. He was sure of that also, and being sure of it allowed himself to take his usual pleasure in her society, honest fellow that he was, without any misgivings of danger.