As the jingle drove on, Derrick and Celia stood watching it in silence. She had seen the sudden change in Lady Gridborough's manner at sight of Derrick; the old lady's agitation had been too obvious, the cut had been too direct, to be mistaken. Celia's heart ached for her lover, and she could not bring herself to look up at him; but her hand stole into his and grasped it with loving pity and sympathy.
"You see!" said Derrick, with a touch of bitterness. "The man you are going to marry is an outcast and pariah, Celia. That old lady was once a friend. I was fond of her, am fond of her still, and she, I think, was fond of me; but you see how she regards me now. How can I ask you to marry me! I'll give you back your promise, Celia."
"Generous offer refused without thanks," said Celia, trying to speak lightly; then her voice grew grave and sweet, as she said, in a low voice, "Do you think it would make any difference to me if a hundred Lady Gridboroughs, if all the world, turned their backs on you? She does not know what I know; that you are innocent, that you sacrificed yourself, are still sacrificing yourself, for another person?"
"You're speaking about the forged cheque," said Derrick, moodily. "But there's something else. See here, dearest—God bless you for those sweet words, for your trust in me!—but there's something else. It was not because of the cheque that Lady Gridborough cut me just now—I'm not sure that she knows anything about it—but for something else she thinks me guilty of; something worse than forgery, something unutterably mean and base—Oh, I've got to tell you!"
"Not now," said Celia, resolutely. "If you were to tell me now, I should feel that you think Lady Gridborough's conduct had forced you to do it; and I want you to tell me, if ever you do so, of your own free will." She paused, then she put her hands on his shoulder and looked up at him, with all her soul in her eyes. "Dearest, don't you know that it is a joy to me to feel that I am trusting you, that I am proving my love for you? Oh, let it go at that"—how soon she had caught his phrases! "And now come back a little way through the woods with me. And try to forget Lady Gridborough. Why, sir," she went on, with a tender, bewitching playfulness, though her eyes were moist, "you ought not to be thinking of any lady, old or young, but me."
When Derrick got back to the inn, he found Reggie at work on his masterpiece.
"Put that away for a minute or two, Rex," he said. "I want to talk to you. Do you know how to get married?"
"You catch your bride and bridegroom, dress them carefully, place them in a church, add a parson and mix slowly and carefully. There is also another way, much more expeditious and less trouble. You obtain a fresh, fair-sized special licence——"
"That's it," said Derrick, nodding. "Be serious, Rex, if you can. I want to know all about it."
"Quite so. And you've come to the right shop," said Reggie. "A novelist knows everything, or what's the use of him! I'll tell you all about it. And so you're going to marry your true love out of hand?" he said, when he had imparted the required information. "I don't blame you. If my angel would consent to marry me, I'd marry her the first available day, hour, instant. But why this haste on your part? I should have thought Miss Grant would have stipulated for the usual fuss and flare-up, bridesmaids, wedding cake, speeches, reception, et cetera."