“What will Charlotte Mullen say to me?” she wailed, as she went for the twentieth time to the window and saw no sign of the runaways upon the lake vista that was visible from it. She found small consolation in the other two occupants of the drawing-room. Christopher, reading the newspaper with every appearance of absorbed interest, treated the alternative theories of drowning or elopement with optimistic indifference; and Miss Hope-Drummond, while disclaiming any idea of either danger, dwelt on the social aspect of the affair so ably as almost to reduce her hostess to despair. Cursiter was down at the pier, seriously debating with himself as to the advisability of rowing the long four miles back to Lismoyle, and giving his opinion to Mr. Hawkins in language that would, he hoped, surprise even that bland and self-satisfied young gentleman. There Pamela found him standing, as desolate as Sir Bedivere when the Three Queens had carried away King Arthur in their barge, and from thence she led him, acquiescing with sombre politeness in the prospect of dining out for the second time in one week, and wondering whether Providence would again condemn him to sit next Miss Hope-Drummond, and prattle to her about the Lincolnshire Cursiters. He felt as if talking to Pamela would make the situation more endurable. She knew how to let a man alone, and when she did talk she had something to say, and did not scream twaddle at you like a peacock. These unamiable reflections will serve to show the irritation of Captain Cursiter’s mind, and as he stalked into dinner with Lady Dysart, and found that for her sake he had better make the best of his subaltern’s iniquity, he was a man much to be pitied.
CHAPTER XXIII
At about this very time it so happened that Mr. Hawkins was also beginning to be sorry for himself. The run to Lismoyle had been capital fun, and though the steering and the management of the machinery took up more of his attention than he could have wished, he had found Francie’s society more delightful than ever. The posting of a letter, which he had fortunately found in his pocket, had been the pretext for the expedition, and both he and Francie confidently believed that they would get back to Bruff at about six o’clock. It is true that Mr. Hawkins received rather a shock when, on arriving at Lismoyle, he found that it was already six o’clock, but he kept this to himself, and lost no time in starting again for Bruff.
The excitement and hurry of the escapade had conspired, with the practical business of steering and attending to the various brass taps, to throw sentiment for a space into the background, and that question as to whether forgiveness should or should not be extended to him, hung enchantingly on the horizon, as delightful and as seductive as the blue islands that floated far away in the yellow haze of the lowered sun. There was not a breath of wind, and the launch slit her way through tranquil, oily spaces of sky that lay reflected deep in the water, and shaved the long rocky points so close that they could see the stones at the bottom looking like enormous cairngorms in the golden shallows.
“That was a near thing,” remarked Mr. Hawkins complacently, as a slight grating sound told that they had grazed one of these smooth-backed monsters. “Good business old Snipey wasn’t on board!”
“Well, I’ll tell old Snipey on you the very minute I get back!”
“Oh, you little horror!” said Mr. Hawkins.
Both laughed at this brilliant retort, and Hawkins looked down at her, where she sat near him, with an expression of fondness that he did not take the least pains to conceal.
“Hang it! you know,” he said presently, “I’m sick of holding this blooming wheel dead amidships; I’ll just make it fast, and let her rip for a bit by herself.” He suited the action to the word, and came and sat down beside her.
“Now you’re going to drown me again, I suppose, the way Mr. Lambert did,” Francie said. She felt a sudden trembling that was in no way caused by the danger of which she had spoken; she knew quite well why he had left the wheel, and her heart stood still with the expectation of that explanation that she knew was to come.