Sophia: A Romance

"Now, it's my turn," she cried gaily. "Do you sit, and I'll make you a posy!" And humming an air she floated through the fern to a tree of wild cherry that hung low boughs to meet the fern and fox-gloves. She began to pluck the blossom while Tom watched her and told himself that never was sweeter idyll than this, nor a maid more entrancingly fair, nor eyes more blue, nor lips more inviting, nor manners more daintily sweet and naïve. He sighed prodigiously, for he swore that not for the world would he hurt her, though it was pretty plain how it would go if he chose, and he knew that

Pride lures the little warbler from the skies!
The light-enamoured bird eluded dies.

And-and then, while his thoughts were full of this, he saw her coming back, her arms full of blossom.

"Lord, child!" he cried, "you've plucked enough for a Jack o' the Green."

She shot an arch glance at him. "It is for my Jack o' the Green," she murmured.

He ogled her and she blushed. But he had his misgivings when he saw that she was making a nosegay as big as his head. Present it was done, and she found a pin and advanced upon him.

"But you're not going to put that on me!" he cried. He had a boy's horror of the ridiculous.

She stopped, offended. "Oh," she said, "if you don't wish it?" and with lips pouting and tears ill-repressed, she turned away.

He sprang up. "My dear child, I do wish it!" he cried. "'Pon honour I do! But it's-it's immense."

She did not answer. Already she was some way up the slope. He ran after her, and told her he would wear it, begged her to pin it for him.

She stood looking at him languidly.

"Are you sure?" she said.

He vowed he was by all his gods, and still pouting she pinned the flowers to the breast of his coat. Now, if ever, he thought was his opportunity. Alas, the nosegay was so large, the cherry twigs of which it was composed were so stiff and sharp, he might as well have kissed her over a hedge! It was provoking in the last degree, and so were her smiling lips. And yet-he could not be angry with her. The very artlessness with which she had made up this huge cabbage and fixed it on him was one charm the more.

"There," she said, stepping back and viewing him with innocent satisfaction, "I'm sure a real lady could not have managed that better. It does not prick your chin, does it?"

"No, child."

"And it isn't in your way? Of course, if it is in your way, sir?"

"No, no!"

"That's well. I'm so glad." And with a final nod of approval-with that, and no more-Betty turned, actually turned, and began to walk back towards the Hall.

Tom stood, looking after her in astonishment. "But you are not going?" he cried.

"To be sure, sir," she answered, looking back and smiling, "my lady'll be waiting for me."

"What? This minute?"

"Indeed, sir, and indeed, sir, yes, it is late already," she said. "But you can come with me a little way, if you like," she added modestly. And she looked back at him.

He was angry. He had even a suspicion, a small, but growing suspicion, that she was amusing herself with him! But he could not withstand her glance; and as she turned for the last time, he made after her. He overtook her in a few strides, and fell in beside her. But he sulked. His vanity was touched, and willing to show her that he was offended, he maintained a cold silence.

On a sudden he caught the tail of her eye fixed on him, saw that she was shaking with secret laughter; and felt his cheeks begin to burn. The conviction that the little hussy was making fun of him, that she had dared to put this great cabbage upon him for a purpose, burst on him in a flash. It pricked his vanity to the very quick. His heart burned as well as his face; but if she thought to have all the laughing on her side he would teach her better! He lagged a step or two behind, and stealthily tore off the hateful nosegay. The next moment his hot breath was on her neck, his arm was round her; and despite her scream of rage, despite her frantic, furious attempt to push him away, he held her to him while he kissed her twice.

"There, my girl," he cried, as he released her with a laugh of triumph. "That's for making fun of me."

For answer she struck him a sounding slap on the cheek; and as he recoiled, surprised by her rage, she dealt him another on his ear.

Tom's head rung. "You cat!" he cried. "I've a good mind to take another! And I will if you don't behave yourself!"

But the little madcap's face of scarlet fury, her eyes blazing with passion, daunted him. "How dare you?" she hissed. "How dare you touch me? You creature! You-" And then, even in the same breath and while he stared, she turned and was gone, leaving the sentence unfinished; and he watched her flee across the sward, a tumultuous raging little figure, with hanging hat, and hair half down, and ribbons that flew out and spoke her passion.

Tom was so taken by surprise he did not attempt to follow, much less to detain her. His sister's maid to take a kiss so? A waiting-woman? A chit of a servant? And after she had played for it, as it seemed to him, aye, and earned it and over-earned it by her impudent trick and her confounded laughter. He had never been so astonished in his life. The world was near its end, indeed, if there was to be this bother about a kiss. Why, his head hummed, and his cheek would show the mark for an hour to come. Nor was that the worst. If she went to the house in that state and published the thing, he would have an awkward five minutes with his sister. Hang the prude! And yet what a charming little vixen it was.

He stood awhile in the sunshine, boring the turf with his heel, uncertain what to do. At length, feeling that anything was better than sneaking there, like a boy who had played truant and feared to go home, he started for the Hall. He would not allow that he was afraid, but as he approached the terrace he had an uneasy feeling; first of the house's many windows, and then of an unnatural silence that prevailed about it, as if something had happened or was preparing. To prove his independence he whistled, but he whistled flat, and stopped.

Outside he met no one, and he plucked up a spirit. After all the girl would not be such a fool as to tell. And what was there to tell? A kiss? What was a kiss? But the moment he was out of the glare and over the threshold of the Hall, he knew that she had told. For there in the cool shadow stood Sophia waiting for him, and behind her Sir Hervey, seated on a corner of the great oak table and whistling softly.

Sophia's tone was grave, her face severe. "Tom," she said, "what have you been doing?"

"I?" he cried.

"Yes, you, young man," his brother-in-law answered sharply. "I see no one else."

"Why, what's the bother?" Tom asked sulkily. "If you mean about the girl, I kissed her, and what's the harm? I'm not the first that's stolen a kiss."

"Oh, Tom!"

"And I sha'n't be the last."

"Nor the last that'll get his face smacked!" Sir Hervey retorted grimly.

Tom winced. "She has told you that, has she?" he muttered.

"No," Sir Hervey answered. "Your cheek told me."

Tom winced again. "Well, we're quits then," he said sullenly. "She needn't have come Polly Peachuming here!"

Sophia could contain herself no longer. "Oh, Tom, you don't know what you have done," she cried impetuously. "You don't indeed. You thought she was my maid. You took her for my woman that night we were out, you know-and she let you think it."

"Well?"

"But she is not."

"Then," Tom cried in a rage, "who the devil is she?"

"She's Lady Betty Cochrane, the duke's daughter."

"And the apple of his eye," Sir Hervey added with a nod. "I tell you what, my lad, I would not be in your shoes for something."

Tom stared, gasped, seemed for a moment unable to take it in. But the next, a wicked gleam shone in his eyes, and he smacked his lips.

"Well, Lady Betty or no, I've kissed her," he cried. "I've kissed her, and she can't wipe it off!"

"You wicked boy!" Sophia cried, with indignation. "Do you consider that she was my guest, under my care, and you have insulted her? Grossly and outrageously insulted her, sir! She leaves to-morrow in consequence, and what am I to say to her people? What am I to tell them? Oh, Tom, it was cruel! it was cruel of you!"