Sometimes, when she is in a communicative mood, Mrs. Belverton can be persuaded to tell the story of that half-hour under the gum-tree, and she catalogues it as the funniest thirty minutes she has ever experienced. But though she laughs about it now, I fancy she did not enjoy it so much at the time.
From each hinting that the other should retire, both men fell to justifying their presence there, and finished by whispering into the lady's ears, between the thunder-claps, protestations of their undying love and devotion.
Then, while the thunder was crashing, the lightning flashing, the rain soaking them through and through, and Mrs. Belverton was wondering how it was all to end, Jessie Halroyd rode round the tree.
They all stared, you may be sure, and because Mrs. Belverton had adventured the whole miserable business for her sake, she naturally hissed,—
"False friend, false friend, I hate you! Oh, Mrs. Belverton, how I hate you—I could kill you!"
A flash of lightning showed her face. It was all white and quivering, like a badly made blanc-mange pudding. There was a pause till somebody said very innocently, and I am told it was the funniest part of the whole affair,—
"My dear child, you're getting wet through; do bring your horse into shelter!"
But before the sentence was finished the girl had turned her horse's head and was galloping down the streaming road at break-neck speed.
Then Mrs. Belverton gathered her wits together and set to work to undeceive her two admirers. All things considered, the operation must have been a curious one. When it was accomplished she rode home alone, meditating, I presume, on the futilities of this mundane existence.
The sad conclusion we, the Hillites, have come to, is that both Poltwhistle and Collivar hate their would-be benefactress most cordially for endeavouring to promote their happiness, and abominate each other still more for interfering and spoiling sport. While Miss Halroyd, who goes home next mail-day, hates all three with an undying hatred, and of course cannot be made to understand that her own folly alone is responsible for everything that happened. Personally, I should be more interested to know what easy-going William Belverton thinks about it all.