It Began in Vauxhall Gardens

She said: "I do not wish for marriage . . . just yet. It is so hard to explain and seems so ungrateful. It is not that I am not fond of you. I am. I shall always remember your kindness at the whist party. But . . . things have happened. It is not very long since I ran away from marriage. You see, I thought he was in love with me, and it was really the dowry my father was giving me. I could not endure that. It was so mercenary . . . such hypocrisy. I do not wish to think of marriage for a long time."

"You will forgive my tactlessness?"

"But it is not tactlessness. It is kindness."

"May I ask you again?"

She smiled: "Will you?"

"I shall go on asking you until you consent. You will one day, won't you?"

"If I were sure of that, I should consent now. How can we be sure? So much has happened to me in such a short time, I think. There were years at the Convent when one day was very like another . . . and then suddenly he came for me . . . my father . . . and everything was different; and since then, although it is not two years, there has been a lifetime of experience, it seems to me. That is why I am bewildered. Too much in too short a time, you understand?"

"And you want a breathing space. I understand perfectly. Melisande, depend on me, rely on me. When that dreadful old woman bullies you, you can walk straight out if you wish to— straight out to me."

"It is a comfort. I begin to feel very comfortable. But what is the time?"

He drew out his watch and as she looked at it she exclaimed in horror. "I shall have overstayed my time!"

"What does it matter?"

"I may be sent packing right away."

"That is no longer a tragedy."

"But I am still unsure."

"Come on then. We'll make our way back with all speed. When you agree to marry me I want it to be simply because that is what you wish. I want you to be sure."

"I see how well you understand me," she said, "and I am grateful."

He took her arm and they hurried through the gardens and out to the streets.

Listening to the clop-clop of the horse's hoofs as the hansom carried them to the Lavenders' house, Melisande felt that it had been one of the most important afternoons of her life.

She mounted the steps to the house with trepidation. She was an hour late. There would be recriminations. She must keep her temper; she must not be forced to a decision now. If she were to marry Thorold she must be quite clear that it was what she wanted.

She went to the sitting-room, framing an apology. She knocked.

280 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS

A voice said: "Come in!" and uneasily she entered, for it was not Mrs. Lavender, but Mr. Lavender who had spoken.

He was sitting in an armchair when she entered, smoking a cigar. His quiff of yellow hair fell over his forehead and he was smiling. She felt a tremor of fear. She would have preferred stern looks.

He said: "Ah, Miss Martin. You are looking for Mrs. Lavender?"

"Yes," she said hesitating at the door.

"Come in," he said. "Come in."

She shut the door behind her and advanced two paces. Then she stood there waiting.

He took the big gold watch from his pocket and looked at it. "Why," he said, "you are late."

"I am sorry. I came to say that I was delayed."

"Oh? Delayed? I can understand how such a charming young lady as yourself might be delayed."

"I will go to Mrs. Lavender's bedroom. I expect she will be needing me."

"She's resting. There's no reason why she need know you are late. No need at all . . . unless someone tells her."

"Oh ... I see."

"I wonder if you do?" he said. "But of course you do. You must have realized that I want to help you, to be your friend."

"That is good of you, but ..."

"But? You are too modest, Miss Martin. Too retiring. I have been wondering why you keep so aloof from me when you are prepared to be so very friendly with Thorold Randall."

"I have no wish to be other than friendly with anyone."

"Oh come now, deliberately misunderstanding! You're cleverer than that. I wish to be very friendly with you, Miss Martin. Very friendly indeed. That's why I want to help you ... on occasions like the present one. You ought to be grateful to me, you know."

She hated him. There was something in his demeanour which reminded her of Fermor. The peace of the afternoon was completely wrecked. She felt the colour rise to her cheeks as she said sharply: "You must do as you wish about telling Mrs. Lavender that I am late, Mr. Lavender."

"Does that mean that you are not a bit grateful for my kind suggestion?"

"I merely said that you must do as you please about telling her."

"She might decide to dismiss you."

"As you suggest, that is a matter for her to decide."

"It is very difficult, you know, to find posts without references. If you were wise you would not turn away from . . . friends. ..."

He had risen and was leering at her. She stepped back.

"Now, my dear," he said, "if you will be pleasant to me I will be pleasant to you."

Her fingers were on the door handle. She turned it and said quickly: "I must go."

And she went out.

In her attic she locked the door and leaned against it.

Her afternoon was spoiled. Mr. Lavender with his leers and insinuations had reminded her of the unpleasantness of the world.

Perhaps Mr. Lavender had something to do with her decision. He had not told Mrs. Lavender of her lateness; often she met his eyes and he would seem conspiratorial, as though there was a secret understanding between them. She was afraid of Mr. Lavender. Sometimes in the night she would awaken with a start. Had she remembered to lock her door ? She would get out of bed and with immense relief confirm that she had done so. There was really no need to fear that she had not done so. Never did she enter her room without thinking of him, without making sure that she was safe from him.

His eyes followed her; they would seem to say: "We're going to be friends . . . very special friends."

She was afraid of him as the nuns in the Convent had been afraid. She locked her door; they shut themselves away from the world.

During the day he worried her no more than a wasp would have done. If she kept out of his way, made sure that she was prepared against his stings, what trouble could there be! It was only at night that the uneasiness came, and it came in dreams.

Thorold was a frequent visitor at the house; he spent a good deal of time with Mr. Lavender. They went to the races together; sometimes they watched boxing matches; they were interested in all sport. Thorold said that he came to the house only to see her; it was a good thing, he said, that he knew how to interest Archibald Lavender. He was clever too with Mrs. Lavender, so that she was always ready to welcome him.

A few weeks after he had first asked Melisande to marry him he repeated his proposal.

Melisande realized suddenly how empty her life would be if she lost his friendship. Mrs. Chubb, in whom she had confided, thought it was the best thing that had happened to anyone since she herself

met Mr. Chubb. Mr. and Mrs. Gunter who saw 'the way the wind was blowing* were equally sure that it was a good thing.

"The fact is," said Mrs. Gunter, "you're not cut out to work for other people, my dear. You ought to be a lady with a maid of your own. That's my view and Gunter's."