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Updated: June 1, 2025
"I always go away before the time." "Then you'd better come now. Put the canoe to bed and walk with me." Charlie Merceron thrust his hands into his pockets and smiled at his companion. He was tall also, and just able to look down on her. "No," he said, "I'm not going yet." "How rude oh, there it is again, Charlie! I saw it!
"Beg pardon," smiled Calder. "Victor told me rather a joke. It appears there's a young Merceron, and the usual rustic beauty, don't you know forget the name but a fat girl, Victor said, and awfully gone on young Merceron. Well, there's a pond or something " "How long will this story last?" asked Miss Glyn with a tragic air. "It's an uncommon amusing one," protested Calder.
"He'll be an acquisition, I think." Agatha made no answer, and Mrs. Blunt, glancing at her, found her devouring the carpet with a stony stare. "What on earth's the matter, child?" "I'm the wretchedest wickedest girl alive," declared Agatha. "Good gracious!" "Mrs. Blunt, who do you think was in the summer-house when Mr. Merceron went there?" "My dear, are you ill?
"He said what you never had the sense to see, my boy; but I expect Mr. Merceron won't be obliged to me for repeating it." "I should like to hear it," said Charlie, with necessary politeness. "Well, it's not me, its old Thrapston; and if you say it's wrong, I'll believe yon. Old Thrapston hang it, Victor, that old man ought to be hanged! Why, only the other day I saw him "
"I expect he'll never speak to me again, and I'm sure Mr. Merceron won't;" and she sat on the footstool, the picture of dejection. Lord Thrapston was moved to enunciate a solemn truth. "Aggy," said he, shaking his finger at her, "in this world you can't have your fun for nothing."
"London, I believe." "Oh! I say, that's a queer go, Merceron." "I don't know what to think about it. She's simply vanished," said poor Charlie, and no one should wonder if his voice faltered a little. Calder Wentworth laughed at many things, but he did not laugh now at Charlie Merceron. Indeed he looked unusually grave. "I should drop it," he remarked. "It don't look well healthy."
"And then you can see the ladies from London," added Mrs. Marland. "Perhaps the one who isn't young Mr. Prime's will be interesting." "Or," said Charlie, "as mostly happens in this woeful world, the one who is." "I think the less we see of that sort of person at all, the better," observed Lady Merceron, with gentle decision. "They can hardly be quite what we're accustomed to."
I wonder what you're thinking about me, or whether you're thinking about me at all. You must never think of me again. I am very, very unhappy, and I do most earnestly hope, dear Mr. Merceron, that I have not made you unhappy. We were both very much to blame, weren't we? But we slipped into it without knowing. Good-by.
"She looks after her district, and takes a ride, and plays tennis, when she can get a game, poor girl, and is always cheerful and happy. She'd be a treasure of a wife to any man." "You'd better persuade Charlie of that, Lady Merceron." "Oh, Charlie never thinks of such a thing as marrying. He thinks of nothing but his antiquities."
"What the devil ," muttered Charlie. "They mustn't see me," urged Agatha. Victor Sutton's voice rose clear and distinct, "I'll unearth him!" he cried. "I know the way round. You wait here with Miss Bushell, Merceron." "Oh, he's coming round!" "I must chance it," said Charlie, and he came out of hiding. A cry greeted him. Victor was already started, but stopped. Charlie embarked and shot across.
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