The Incredible Honeymoon

When luncheon, a merry meal and a leisurely, was over, they leaned against a fallen pillar and rested their eyes on the beauty of green floor, red walls, and the blue sky roofing all. And above the skylarks sang.

"There's nothing between us now," he said, contentedly – "no cloud, no misunderstanding."

"No," she answered, "and I don't want there ever to be anything between us. So I'm going to tell you about Chester – the thing that worried me and I couldn't tell. Do you remember?"

"I think I do," he said, grimly.

"Only you must promise you won't be angry."

"With you?" he asked, incredulously.

"No.. with him.. and you must try to believe that it is true. No, of course not; I don't mean you're not likely to believe what I say, but what he said."

"Please," he pleaded, "I'm a patient man, but.."

So she told him the whole story of Mr. Schultz, and, at the end, waited for him to give voice to the anger that, from the very touch of his hand on hers, she knew he felt. But what he said was:

"It was entirely my fault. I ought never to have left you alone for an instant."

"You thought I was to be trusted," she said, a little bitterly, "and I couldn't even stay where you left me. But you do believe what he said?"

"I'll try to," he answered. "After all, he needn't have said anything – and if you believe it – Look here, let's never think of him or speak of him again, will you? We agreed, didn't we, that Mr. Schultz was only a bad dream, and that he never really happened. And there's nothing now between us at all.. no concealments?"

"There's one," she said, in a very small voice, "but it's so silly I don't think I can tell you."

"Try," said he. "I could tell of the silliest things. And after that there's one more thing I wish you'd tell me, if you can. You are happy, aren't you? You are glad that we're together again?"

"Yes," she said. "Oh yes!"

"And this morning you weren't?"

"Oh, but I was, I was! It was only – That's the silly thing I want to tell you. But you'll laugh."

"It wasn't a laughing matter to me."

"I know I was hateful."

"It was – bewildering. I couldn't understand why everything was all wrong and then, suddenly, everything was all right."

"I know – I was detestable. I can't think how I could. But, you see, I was disappointed. I meant to arrange for you to meet me at some very pretty place and I was going to have a very pretty luncheon. I'd thought it all out.. and it was exactly the same as yours, almost, only I shouldn't have known the name of the quite-perfect wine and, then.. there you were, you know, and I hadn't been able to make things nice for you."

"Was that really all, my Princess?"

"Yes, that was all."

"But still I don't understand why everything was suddenly all right."

"It was what you said. That made everything all right."

"What I said?"

"You see, I meant it all to be as pretty as I could make it, and I'd got a new dress, very, very pretty, and a new hat.. and then you came upon me, suddenly, in this old rag and last year's hat and scarf I only wore because aunty gave them to me. And I felt caught, and defrauded, and.. and dowdy."

"Oh, Princess!"

"And then you said.. you said you liked my dress.. so, then, it did not matter."

It was then that he lifted her hand to hold it against his face as once before he had held it, and silence wrapped them around once more – a lovely silence, adorned with the rustle of leaves and grass and the skylark's passionate song.

XX

THE END

THE memory of luncheon died away and the picnic-basket, again appealed to, yielded tea. They had explored the towers, and talked of Kenilworth, the underground passages, and talked of the round tower of Wales. And half their talk was, "Do you remember?" and, "Have you forgotten?" The early days of the incredible honeymoon had been days of exploration, each seeking to discover the secrets of that unknown land, each other's mind and soul; this day of reunion was one gladly given over to the contemplation of the memories they had together amassed. It was a day dedicated to the counting of those treasures of memory which they now held in common, treasures among which this golden day itself would, all too soon, have to be laid aside to be, for each of them, forever, the chief jewel of that priceless treasury.

It was when they were repacking the picnic-basket that they first noticed how the color had gone out of the grass, that was their carpet, and how the blue had faded from the sky, that was their roof. The day had changed its mind, after all. Having been lovely in its youth and glorious in its prime, it had, in its declining hours, fallen a prey to the grayest melancholy and was now very sorry for itself indeed.

"Oh dear!" said she, "I do believe it's going to rain."

Even as she spoke the first big tears of the dejected day fell on the lid of the teapot.

"We must hurry," he said, briskly. "I can't have my princess getting wet through and catching cold in her royal head. Run for it, Princess! Run to the big gateway!"

She ran; he followed with the basket, went out to cover the seats of his car with mackintosh rugs and put up the hood, and came back, dampish, to discuss the situation. They told each other that it was only a shower, that it couldn't possibly, as they put it, have "set in." But it had; the landscape framed in the arch of the gateway lost color moment by moment, even the yellow of the gorse was blotted and obscured; the rain, which at first had fallen in a fitful, amateurish sort of way, settled down to business and fell in gray, diagonal lines, straight and sharp as ramrods.

"And it's getting late," he said, "and your Highness will be hungry."

"We've only just had tea," she reminded him.

"Ah, but we've got some way to go," he told her.

"Where are we going?"

"I had thought," he said, "of going to a place beyond Eastbourne;.. my old nurse lives there. She's rather fond of me;.. she'll have gotten supper for us. I thought you'd like it. It's a farm-house, rather a jolly one, and then I thought, if you liked, we could drive back to the Eastbourne hotel by moonlight."

"That would have been nice."

"But there won't be any moonlight. Perhaps we'd better go straight to the hotel."

"But your nurse will expect you."

"I can telegraph."

"But she'll be so disappointed."

"Why didn't I get a car that would shut up and be weather-tight? The rain will drift under that hood like the deluge."

She laughed. "A little rain won't hurt us."