'There's another thing,' said Marion suddenly, a vague notion in the back of her mind asserting itself. 'I want your promise that you will keep this affair private.'
Beckenham felt a slight shock and his face sobered. 'Forgive me,' he said, 'but Lady Fairfax——'
'You will make an excellent grandfather in time. Captain Beckenham. 'Twere a pity to hasten the day. Of course I shall write to tell my aunt and also Colonel Sampson, and leave a note for my uncle. Could anything be more open? I meant that you should keep this matter private from the Lord Grammonts of your acquaintance. It concerns myself alone.'
'I will promise not to say a word, Mistress Marion,' said Beckenham after a minute's thought, 'if you will on the other hand promise me to take Reuben as well. I myself will accompany you as far as Hounslow, and then strike across country. I shall feel more comfortable once you are past the Heath. But Reuben is a youth of parts. He is quick of thought, has all his five senses in excellent working order; whereas my good Tony is apt to rely too much upon his sword. With those two, and the excellent Zacchary, who is a stalwart fellow, for an escort, I should feel more at ease when I am called on to report this affair to my Lady Fairfax. Even then, 'twill be an ordeal,' he added with a comical air.
'Fear not,' smiled Marion. 'I will make your case plain enough for my aunt's full forgiveness. 'Tis I who will have to meet her anger, some time, but not yourself.'
Beckenham shook his head. 'A man who has the honour of being a friend has nevertheless a certain responsibility.'
'I think I will take Reuben, if he will come,' said Marion, her spirits rising as the difficulties fell away. 'If he will come! Is there a youth in London who would not covet the privilege more than all——' Beckenham stopped short as he met Marion's look.
For a few minutes more the two talked of the journey. Then Marion rose, saying how very busied she must be in the short time left, and thanked the soldier for his kindness.
'I trust,' said Captain Beckenham, 'that you may find your trouble—your errand that causes this urgency—not so great as you may think when you reach your journey's end.'
Marion started and her eyelids drooped. Then she held out her hand, and the eager words Beckenham had to say concerning his sorrow at her departure from Kensington froze before the distant, sorrowful look in her eyes. He lifted the fingers to his lips and turned on his heel. At the door he paused. Marion was looking in his direction, but her gaze was on something remote. The young man bowed again in silence; Marion, recollecting herself as the servant appeared, dropped a low curtsey and bade Captain Beckenham a very good evening.