"That is most excellent advice, my dear," she said dryly, "and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to follow it. But unfortunately Martinworth possesses a will before which--from my experience--everything and everybody give way in the end."
Pearl changed colour, and turned the conversation.
It was some days after the above remarks that Mrs. Nugent and de Güldenfeldt decided to row half way down the lake to Shogonohama. They beached their boat, wandering under the shade of the maples, till they found themselves in the little hut overlooking the waterfall. The rain had poured in torrents for the whole of the day and night before. The cascade, always beautiful, was that day simply magnificent, and the sheets of water crowned with their wreaths of snowy foam, were tearing over the smooth surface of the rocks, and across the fallen trunks of trees, in unbridled and uncontrollable fury. The sight was a glorious one, if somewhat appalling, and the noise was deafening. Pearl and de Güldenfeldt sat close to each other, silent and impressed, he half supporting her with his arm, for the barrier against which they leant--a frail and rotten bamboo--was their only protection from sure and summary destruction.
The sight of rushing, roaring waters invariably worked upon Pearl's emotions. The present moment, with its many lovely accessories, a brilliant blue sky, massive, fern-grown rocks, and surrounding woods of every shade of green--stirred her greatly, and combined in awakening feelings that had long lain dormant in her heart.
With unusual demonstrativeness she turned towards Stanislas, her lips parted, and her eyes shining like stars, and taking his hand between her own, she laid it gently against her cheek. Since their engagement, Pearl had volunteered but few proofs of tenderness, and the present action on her part was so spontaneous, so unexpected, that Stanislas felt the blood surging up into his head, and his heart throbbing, as in reply he leant forward, and pressing her to him, he kissed her passionately on the lips.
A moment later they both instinctively knew--for they could hear nothing owing to the deafening roar of the waters,--that someone was watching them from behind. They turned simultaneously, their eyes meeting those of Lord Martinworth fixed upon them--while Amy Mendovy--apparently extremely wretched and uncomfortable--was standing by his side.
Arriving from an opposite direction and at that unfortunate moment sharply turning a corner, Martinworth and Amy had fallen thus upon the unconscious pair, necessarily witnessing the whole tender and silently acted scene.
At such a sacred moment, the last thing one would ask is to be disturbed, and however true and deep and absorbing may be a man's feelings at the time, it is hardly a pleasant sentiment to know that to the ordinary outside and amused observer one must necessarily be looking somewhat like a fool.
And yet, to his intense annoyance, it was in this undignified and unusual position that de Güldenfeldt now found himself. Perhaps it was only human nature that, being the sole person at fault, his rage should straightway centre itself upon one who so far had proved himself, except by his uncalled-for and unfortunate arrival, entirely inoffensive.
He took two steps forward in Lord Martinworth's direction, and was about to pour forth a flow of angry words and enquiries, when his eloquence was abruptly nipped in the bud by the expression on his would-be victim's face.