To-day, however, things were changed. To-day Christian had taken a big stride, and Larrupper had seen him for the first time. The unwonted tears still came to his eyes when he reviewed the greatness of his relief, paired with the shock of meeting the faint shadow that was his cousin. He had been very quiet in the sick-room, a perfect marvel of restraint, the nurses had agreed, much as they would have agreed if a Newfoundland’s tail had tactfully missed the china; but when he had got himself somehow to Kilne, the restraint had vanished, and he had let himself go. How was a chap to do otherwise when at last he saw the old look in Deb’s eyes, and heard Roger Lyndesay, standing at his window, say “Thank God!” as a man before a High Altar? Deb had put her hand on his head and soothed him in the quaint, motherly way she kept for Larry only, and for the first time he found himself able to tell her of his other trouble that had taken the brightness out of the sun. He had been too chilled by her strange aloofness to mention Verity before, but now he gave her as much of the story as he loyally could, and Deborah’s intuition told her the rest.
“You couldn’t expect to go on smoothly for ever, Larry,” she said gently. “Life isn’t just full tide and a ripple before the wind. But I think you’re treating this too seriously—I do indeed! Verity is straight, whatever nonsense she may talk about herself; and in any case, eleven o’clock at night isn’t a particularly clear-headed hour for discussing a question of ethics. Verity’s very highly-strung, you know, and she’s always a bundle of nerves after handling a village team. Billy-boy would have sent most girls into shrieking hysterics! You should have gone home and slept on it before saying anything. You would both have been saner in the morning.”
“Even the mornin’ couldn’t alter facts!” Larrupper stuck to his point. “She went out of her way to hurt a well-meanin’ chap like Grant, playin’ him gently till he was gaspin’, an’ then pullin’ him neatly up the bank. You can’t say that’s bein’ well brought up. An’ it’s no use your tellin’ me that she didn’t mean it, because she assured me honest injun that she did, an’ besides, I heard old Grant askin’ her myself.”
“My dear boy, Grant would have fallen in love with her in any case!” Deb said cheerfully. “How could he help it—seeing her every day? Any man would—especially with a housekeeper with a squint. Verity doesn’t need to lay herself out to attract. She’s one of the most fascinating people that walk. Grant’s fate was sealed from the moment he accepted Cantacute.”
“Of course I’m not sayin’ he should have had the rotten cheek not to like her,” Larry returned, “but I do think he’d never have got as far as proposin’ if she hadn’t started in assistin’. Old Grant’s so almighty honourable, an’ so amazin’ humble in his own eyes.”
“Pooh!” Deb shrugged her shoulders lightly. “I dare say he’s got his share of vanity, like every other man—let’s hope so, anyhow. Of course, I’m dreadfully sorry for the nice little thing, and he was a perfect brick over that concert, but he’ll recover all right when once you’ve got Verity safely at Arevar. After all, he’s only known her a very short time, and he was certain to fall in love with somebody. People who don’t get enough to eat are always star-gazing after something. Privation destroys their sense of proportion. Anyhow, it’s perfectly absurd to talk as though Verity had committed a crime. Look at all she’s done for Cantacute! It was only likely she should rebel when he tried to take the lead. A woman has only one natural weapon, Larry—you can’t expect her to fight on your particular lines. You may not like it, but for that you must blame the Power that made her. I wonder how far your superiority would get you without brute force to back you up in a hole! I think you’re a pig to be hard on Verity. Who was it said he’d be waiting to console her when she discovered that life wasn’t all beer and skittles? You’ve a short memory, my friend. I don’t believe you love her one atom, so now you know my candid opinion and can go away home!”
“I do! But she led him on——” Larry repeated doggedly, whereupon she took him by the shoulders and put him out.
“I’d shake you if such a thing were possible!” she said. “You’re an ungrateful, hidebound heathen! Now, see here. You can run over to Heron with these handkerchiefs, and if you dare to come back without making your peace with Verity, you needn’t show your face at Kilne again. Oh, Larry, Larry!” her voice followed him to the gate, as he went obediently. “Just be thankful she’s alive and loves you—not lying crushed under a cruel tree or broken to bits by a clumsy brute! How much would you care then for a dozen misguided Pierrot parsons?”
But it was not until he was close at Crump once more that the true inwardness of this speech dawned upon him.
Well, he and the handkerchiefs were on their way to Heron, but Heaven alone knew what he would do when he got there. Not apologise, anyhow. He might be a stupid sort of chap, but at least he knew what was straight an’ what wasn’t, an’ he couldn’t say it was all my eye an’ Betty Martin when he was still blushin’ over what she’d done. It was a sickenin’ business an’ very tryin’—tiresome, old Savaury would say.