The Essential Winston Churchill Collection. Winston Churchill
or two I wished to consult you about."
"Professional?" I asked, trying to head him off.
"No," he replied, "amateur,--beastly amateur. A bungle, if I ever made one. The truth is, I executed rather a faux pas over there at Asquith. Tell me," said he, diving desperately at the root of it, "how does Miss Trevor feel about my getting out? I meant to let her down easier; 'pon my word, I did."
This is a way rascals have of judging other men by themselves.
"Well;" said I, "it was rather a blow, of course."
"Of course," he assented.
"And all the more unexpected," I went on, "from a man who has written reams on constancy."
I flatter myself that this nearly struck home, for he was plainly annoyed.
"Oh, bother that!" said he. "How many gowns believe in their own sermons? How many lawyers believe in their own arguments?"
"Unhappily, not as many as might."
"I don't object to telling you, old chap," he continued, "that I went in a little deeper than I intended. A good deal deeper, in fact. Miss Trevor is a deuced fine girl, and all that; but absolutely impossible. I forgot myself, and I confess I was pretty close to caught."
"I congratulate you," I said gravely.
"That's the point of it. I don't know that I'm out of the woods yet. I wanted to see you and find out how she was acting."
My first impulse was to keep him in hot water. Fortunately I thought twice.
"I don't know anything about Miss Trevor's feelings--" I began.
"Naturally not--" he interrupted, with a smile.
"But I have a notion that, if she ever fancied you, she doesn't care a straw for you to-day."
"Doesn't she now," he replied somewhat regretfully. Here was one of the knots in his character I never could untie.
"Understand, that is simply my guess," I said. "You must have discovered that it is never possible to be sure of a woman's feelings."
"Found that out long ago," he replied with conviction, and added: "Then you think I need not anticipate any trouble from her?"
"I have told you what I think," I answered; "you know better than I what the situation is."
He still lingered.
"Does she appear to be in,--ah,--in good spirits?"
I had work to keep my face straight.
"Capital," I said; "I never saw her happier."
This seemed to satisfy him.
"Downcast at first, happy now," he remarked thoughtfully. "Yes, she got over it. I'm much obliged to you, Crocker."
I left him to finish his short story and walked out across the circle of smooth lawn towards the golf links. And there I met Mrs. Cooke and her niece coming in together. The warm red of her costume became Miss Thorn wonderfully, and set off the glossy black of her hair. And her skin was glowing from the exercise. An involuntary feeling of admiration for this tall, athletic young woman swept over me, and I halted in my steps for no other reason, I believe, than that I might look upon her the longer.
What man, I thought resentfully, would not travel a thousand miles to be near her?
"It is Mr. Crocker," said Mrs. Cooke; "I had given up all hope of ever seeing you again. Why have you been such a stranger?"
"As if you didn't know, Aunt Maria," Miss Thorn put in gayly.
"Oh yes, I know," returned her aunt, "and I have not been foolish enough to invite the bar without the magnet. And yet, Mr. Crocker," she went on playfully, "I had imagined that you were the one man in a hundred who did not need an inducement."
Miss Thorn began digging up the turf with her lofter: it was a painful moment for me.
"You might at least have tried me, Mrs. Cooke," I said.
Miss Thorn looked up quickly from the ground, her eyes searchingly upon my face. And Mrs. Cooke seemed surprised.
"We are glad you came, at any rate," she answered.
And at luncheon my seat was next to Miss Thorn's, while the Celebrity was placed at the right of Miss Trevor. I observed that his face went blank from time to time at some quip of hers: even a dull woman may be sharp under such circumstances, and Miss Trevor had wits to spare. And I marked that she never allowed her talk with him to drift into deep water; when there was danger of this she would draw the entire table into their conversation by some adroit remark, or create a laugh at his expense. As for me, I held a discreet if uncomfortable silence, save for the few words which passed between Miss Thorn and me. Once or twice I caught her covert glance on me. But I felt, and strongly, that there could be no friendship between us now, and I did not care to dissimulate merely for the sake of appearances. Besides, I was not a little put out over the senseless piece of gossip which had gone abroad concerning me.
It had been arranged as part of the day's programme that Mr. Cooke was to drive those who wished to go over the Rise in his new brake. But the table was not graced by our host's presence, Mrs. Cooke apologizing for him, explaining that he had disappeared quite mysteriously. It turned out that he and the judge had been served with luncheon in the Ethiopian card-room, and neither threats nor fair words could draw him away. The judge had not held such cards for years, and it was in vain that I talked to him of consequences. The Ten decided to remain and watch a game which was pronounced little short of phenomenal, and my client gave orders for the smaller brake and requested the Celebrity to drive. And this he was nothing loth to do. For the edification as well as the assurance of the party Mr. Allen explained, while we were waiting under the porte cochere, how he had driven the Windsor coach down Piccadilly at the height of the season, with a certain member of Parliament and noted whip on the box seat.
And, to do him justice, he could drive. He won the instant respect of Mr. Cooke's coachman by his manner of taking up the lines, and clinched it when he dropped a careless remark concerning the off wheeler. And after the critical inspection of the horses which is proper he climbed up on the box. There was much hesitation among the ladies as to who should take the seat of honor: Mrs. Cooke declining, it was pressed upon Miss Thorn. But she, somewhat to my surprise, declined also, and it was finally filled by a young woman from Asquith.
As we drove off I found myself alone with Mrs. Cooke's niece on the seat behind.
The day was cool and snappy for August, and the Rise all green with a lavish nature. Now we, plunged into a deep shade with the boughs lacing each other overhead, and crossed dainty, rustic bridges over the cold trout-streams, the boards giving back the clatter of our horses' feet: or anon we shot into a clearing, with a colored glimpse of the lake and its curving shore far below us. I had always loved that piece of country since the first look I had of it from the Asquith road, and the sight of it rarely failed to set my blood a-tingle with pleasure. But to-day I scarcely saw it. I wondered what whim had impelled Miss Thorn to get into this seat. She paid but little attention to me during the first part of the drive, though a mere look in my direction seemed to afford her amusement. And at last, half way up the Rise, where the road takes to an embankment, I got a decided jar.
"Mr. Allen," she cried to the Celebrity, "you must stop here. Do you remember how long we tarried over this bit on Friday?"
He tightened the lines and threw