XXXVII
Miss Casswas duly informed that her train was the two-ten. The family chariot had been ordered for half-past one, an insurance as far as was humanly possible against her missing it. Luncheon, in the meantime, was served to her in the schoolroom.
George Norris was quite upset. Clearly he was expected to share the righteous indignation of the ladies of the household, but this was asking too much of human nature. As for Miss Parbury’s air of triumph, he found it intolerable.
In truth, this was a dark hour. For the young man now realized that he was very much in love. The drama of this abrupt departure brought home the fact rather unpleasantly. A very little reflection showed that his hesitations and moral cowardice of the last few days were going to cost him dear.
On three consecutive mornings had he made up his mind to propose to Miss Cass before the day was out. But the end of each day had found him unequal to the task. He didn’t quite know why. Sheer human weakness, no doubt, had led him to put off till the morrow. And it was now too late.
Somehow the little governess had always contrived to keep him rather at a distance. He had never quiteknown the ground on which he stood. She was a most dexterous fencer, her heart was not worn on her sleeve; and in spite of his military renown he was not quite sure of himself. But the “sacking” at a moment’s notice of this extremely fascinating little lady brought things at once to a head.
It roused the chivalry in the breast of George Norris to the danger point. He felt that he must speak now or forever hold his peace. This was a chance that could not recur. If he let her go now he was never likely to meet her again. In a state of high tension he began to range the house, yet halting always at the schoolroom door with two sinister words echoing and reëchoing in his mind. Too late! Too late! was their diabolic chorus.
Even now he was set upon one last attempt. She must not go away like that. It was the fifty-ninth minute of the eleventh hour, he would have to rush his fences horribly, but no matter he must put all to the touch.
The schoolroom door confronted him. But in spite of the row of decorations on his tunic his courage suddenly failed. One can hardly propose to a girl in the middle of her luncheon! Some men might be equal to such a task: a strenuous military life had taught George Norris that some men are equal to anything, but even in this impasse he thanked his stars that he was not of their number. No, confound it all, he must let her eat her luncheon anyway!
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed a quarter-past one. He was cutting it decidedly fine! Again one of his fatal hesitations came upon him. Only a fool would think of butting in now. Better far be content with obtaining her permanent address and sending through the post an offer in his best English. But the Dr. Jekyll in his composition—or was it the Mr. Hyde?—assured him that such a bloodless proceeding was bound to fail. Wiser by far, thought Jekyll-Hyde, to trust implicitly to the personal equation. Let him go ahead with the business, luncheon or no luncheon, then and now!
Yes, after all, that was the sound commonsense of the matter. The hand of George Norris sought the knob of the schoolroom, but before he could turn it, the door of the room opposite came abruptly open. “George,” said Mrs. Trenchard-Simpson with a glance at the venerable article of furniture across the hall, “Tell me, isn’t that clock slow?”
With a stab of keen annoyance George looked at his watch. Alas, the clock was certainly slow, by a full ten minutes. And in confirmation of the dire fact a severe parlor-maid and a giggling subordinate emerged at that moment round a bend into the visible part of the staircase in charge of Miss Cass’s rather meager but heavily burdened tin trunk.
In almost the same instant there came a sharp peal at the front door bell. It was an intimation that John Small was round with the family chariot.