"I'll tell you what it is, Charley," said Gordon Frere, after they had careered round the gardens, and were standing once more by the gate at which they had entered--"I'll tell you what it is; you're like a country cousin, by Jove! or one of those horrible fellows that come up to town with a letter of introduction. You want to see every thing, and all at once. It's a deuced good thing that you don't often give yourself an outing, or you'd be wanting me to take you to the Thames Tunnel, and the Monument, and Madame Tussaud's, and all sorts of wonderful places. Here have we been rushing about from pillar to post, or rather from tent to tent, and from band to band, and you've never yet given me breathing-time to look round and speak to any of the people I know. Now you really must hold on for a moment, for it's just upon three o'clock, and that's the time that Kate--Miss Guyon, I mean--said she should be here; and I promised to be near the entrance, to join her at once."
He spoke with animation, and his bright eyes glowed with fire as he seized his old friend by the shoulders and used a feigned force to arrest his progress. You see Mr. Gordon Frere was brimming over with happiness. To be six-and-twenty years of age; to be good-looking; to have high animal spirits; to have indulgent tradespeople, and a tolerable sufficiency of pocket-money; to be in love with a very charming girl, and to have your passion returned, are all things calculated to make a man content with life, and disposed to regard human nature from its best point of view. He was pleased to speak of himself as a "creature of impulse," and, by some accident probably, he rightly described himself. Whatever best pleased him for the time being he took up and went in for earnestly and vigorously. He had done so all his life, in cricketing, rowing, riding, at school and college--actually once in reading, when he studied so hard and to so much purpose apparently, that old Mr. Yeldham wrote to Charles, anticipating for his son's chum and his own pupil the highest University honours; but Gordon slacked off, and when the class-list came out, a double-third was all the position awarded him. Up to this time the "impulse" had not been shown very strongly in any love-affairs: he had had his ball-room flirtations, involving bouquet-sending, Rotten-Row riding, Opera-box haunting, &c., as all men have; but he had never--to Charles Yeldham's idea at least--been so really smitten with any one as he announced himself to be with Miss Guyon. So his honest old chum, albeit he had his own views of the probable reception of Gordon's proposal by Mr. Guyon, could not find it in his heart to check him, and only smiled pleasantly as he said:
"All right, Gordon; all right, my boy. But you talk of my taking you about here and there, as though I were not a mere child in leading-strings in such a place as this, to be shown each separate sight in the proper order. Now we've seen the fruit and the flowers, and listened to the bands, let us take a look at the people. Tremendous, what you call 'swells,' are they not? No end of crinoline, and flowers, and finery. By Jove! just turn a few of these young ladies to walk through the Temple Gardens, and there would not be much work done that day. Every clerk's nose would be glued to the window; and I verily believe that even old Farrar, our underneath neighbour, would leave his books and his papers for such a refreshing sight. Now there's one,--look there! that tall girl just coming in, with--hallo! steady, young 'un; what's the matter?"
Charley Yeldham might well cry "steady;" for Gordon gave a visible start as he turned in the direction indicated by his friend; and his tone was thick and hurried as he said, "That's Miss Guyon and her father--and--who the devil's that man with them?"
"Now that's a curious thing," said Yeldham with provoking placidity. "I don't suppose I know another soul in all this large gathering; but I do know that man intimately, and I can tell you who he is. That's Robert Streightley, the City man, that you've so often heard me speak of, and--but what has come to him? Talk of 'swells,' why, I should scarcely have recognised Bob Sobersides, as they used to call him, in that costume. And so that is Miss Guyon, is it? that's Miss Guyon I say, young 'un, she's--she's wonderfully lovely."
"For God's sake, don't stand staring there with your mouth open, Charley; but let us go up and speak to these people. They've seen us already;" and Mr. Frere, passing his arm through his friend's, led him up to the group, and after making his own salutations, freely presented him to Miss Guyon and her father. Immediately after his introduction, Yeldham turned and shook hands with Robert Streightley; and after a few words of astonishment from each at meeting the other in such a place, they commenced a conversation, in which Mr. Guyon took part, leaving Gordon Frere and Katharine walking together a little in advance of them.
There are few things more embarrassing than having something very particular to say, knowing that you will have great difficulty in saying it, and being perfectly convinced that if ever it is to be said at all, the exact time has arrived. This was Gordon Frere's position. He knew that the end of the season had arrived; that another fortnight would see Miss Guyon flown, with the rest of the fashionable world, to some English sea-board, foreign watering-place, or country-house, whither he could not have the remotest excuse for following her; he knew the proverbial danger of delay, especially in love-affairs; he fully shared in Charley Yeldham's only half-expressed doubts as to the reception of his proposal by Mr. Guyon, and in the sudden and unexpected appearance upon the scene of Robert Streightley whom he had never met before, but of whom, his wealth, his talents, his City position, he had heard frequently from Charley--he saw a new and important element of danger. If he intended to make his coup for the winning of this peerless beauty, now was the time. So he screwed up his courage and began.
"You are a little late, Miss Guyon,"--this in a low, deep, tremulous voice; "you said you would be here at three."
"You don't pretend to say that you recollect any thing I said about it, Mr. Frere?" in the same tone. "I scarcely remembered we had touched upon the subject."
"Don't you pretend to imagine any such thing so far as I am concerned, Miss Guyon. No, no; pardon me for one instant; you know that whatever concerns you, in however trifling a degree,--and more especially when it relates to the chance of my seeing you,--is always of importance to me."