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 a meaning glance backward.
I was tempted to say:
"You and Mr. Allen should know these roads rather well, Miss Thorn."
"Every inch of them," she replied.
We must have gone a mile farther when she turned upon me.
"It is your duty to be entertaining, Mr. Crocker. What in the world are you thinking of, with your brow all puckered up, forbidding as an owl?"
"I was thinking how some people change," I answered, with a readiness which surprised me.
"Strange," she said, "I had the same thing in mind. I hear decidedly queer tales of you; canoeing every day that business does not prevent, and whole evenings spent at the dark end of a veranda."
"What rubbish!" I exclaimed, not knowing whether to be angered or amused.
"Come, sir," she said, with mock sternness, "answer the charge. Guilty or not guilty?"
"First let me make a counter-charge," said I; "you have given me the right. Not long ago a certain young lady came to Mohair and found there a young author of note with whom she had had some previous acquaintance. She did not hesitate to intimate her views on the character of this Celebrity, and her views were not favorable."
I paused. There was some satisfaction in seeing Miss Thorn biting her lip.
"Well?"
"Not at all favorable, mind you," I went on. "And the young lady's general appearance was such as to lead one to suppose her the sincerest of persons. Now I am at a loss to account for a discrepancy between her words and her actions."
While I talked Miss Thorn's face had been gradually turning from mine until now I saw only the dainty knot at the back of her head. Her shoulders were quivering with laughter. But presently her face came back all gravity, save a suspicious gleam of mirth in the eyes.
"It does seem inconsistent, Mr. Crocker; I grant you that. No doubt it is so. But let me ask you something: did you ever yet know a woman who was not inconsistent?"
I did not realize I had been side-tracked until I came to think over this conversation afterwards.
"I am not sure," I replied. "Perhaps I merely hoped that one such existed."
She dropped her eyes.
"Then don't be surprised at my failing," said she. "No doubt I criticised the Celebrity severely. I cannot recall what I said. But it is upon the better side of a character that we must learn to look. Did it ever strike you that the Celebrity had some exceedingly fine qualities?"
"No, it did not," I answered positively.
"Nevertheless, he has," she went on, in all apparent seriousness. "He drives almost as well as Uncle Farquhar, dances well, and is a capital paddle."
"You were speaking of qualities, not accomplishments," I said. A horrible suspicion that she was having a little fun at my expense crossed my mind.
Very good, then. You must admit that he is generous to a fault, amiable; and persevering, else he would never have attained the position he enjoys. And his affection for you, Mr. Crocker, is really touching, considering how little he gets in return."
"Come, Miss Thorn," I said severely, "this is ridiculous. I don't like him, and never shall. I liked him once, before he took to writing drivel. But he must have been made over since then. And what is more, with all respect to your opinion, I don't believe he likes me."
Miss Thorn straightened up with dignity and said:
"You do him an injustice. But perhaps you will learn to appreciate him before he leaves Mohair."
"That is not likely," I replied—not at all pleasantly, I fear. And again I thought I observed in her the same desire to laugh she had before exhibited.
And all the way back her talk was of nothing except the Celebrity. I tried every method short of absolute rudeness to change the subject, and went from silence to taciturnity and back again to silence. She discussed his books and his mannerisms, even the growth of his popularity. She repeated anecdotes of him from Naples to St. Petersburg, from Tokio to Cape Town. And when we finally stopped under the porte cochere I had scarcely the civility left to say good-bye.
I held out my hand to help her to the ground, but she paused on the second step.
"Mr. Crocker," she observed archly, "I believe you once told me you had not known many girls in your life."
"True," I said; "why do you ask?"
"I wished to be sure of it," she replied.
And jumping down without my assistance, she laughed and disappeared into the house.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Celebrity, Volume 2, by Winston Churchill