Except on one
kind of business; and with regard to that kind of business gentlemen had
to obtain first the confidence and permission of guardians. Leonard saw
the difficulty and said quickly:

'It is on the matter you wrote to me about!' Stephen was prepared for a nasty shock, but hardly for so nasty a one as
this. There was an indelicacy about it which went far beyond the bounds
of thoughtless conventionality. That such an appeal should be made to
her, and in such a way, savoured of danger. Her woman's intuition gave
her the guard, and at once she spoke, smilingly and gently as one
recalling a matter in which the concern is not her own:

'Of course! It was selfish of me not to have thought of it, and to have
kept you so long waiting. The fact is, Auntie, that Leonard--I like to
call him Leonard, since we were children together, and he is so young;
though perhaps it would be more decorous nowadays to say "Mr.
Everard"--has consulted me about his debts. You know, Auntie dear, that
young men will be young men in such matters; or perhaps you do not, since
the only person who ever worried you has been myself. But I stayed at
Oxford and I know something of young men's ways; and as I am necessarily
more or less of a man of business, he values my help. Don't you,
Leonard?' The challenge was so direct, and the position he was in so
daringly put, that he had to acquiesce. Miss Rowly, who had looked on
with a frown of displeasure, said coldly:

'I know you are your own mistress, my dear. But surely it would be
better if Mr. Everard would consult with his solicitor or his father's
agent, or some of his gentlemen friends, rather than with a young lady
whose relations with him, after all, are only those of a neighbour on
visiting terms. For my own part, I should have thought that Mr.
Everard's best course would have been to consult his own father! But the
things that gentlemen, as well as ladies do, have been sadly changed
since my time!' Then, rising in formal dignity, she bowed gravely to the
visitor before leaving the room. But the position of being left alone in the room with Leonard did not at
all suit Stephen's plans. Rising quickly she said to her aunt:

'Don't stir, Auntie. I dare say you are right in what you say; but I
promised Mr. Everard to go into the matter. And as I have brought the
awkwardness on myself, I suppose I must bear it. If Mr. Everard wants to
see me alone, and I suppose he is diffident in speaking on such a matter
before you--he didn't play with you, you know!--we can go out on the
lawn. We shan't be long!' Before Leonard could recover his wits she had
headed him out on the lawn. Her strategy was again thoroughly good. The spot she chose, though
beyond earshot, was quite in the open and commanded by all the windows in
that side of the house. A person speaking there might say what he liked,
but his actions must be discreet. On the lawn Stephen tripped ahead; Leonard followed inwardly raging. By
her clever use of the opening she had put him in a difficulty from which
there was no immediate means of extrication. He could not quarrel
overtly with Stephen; if he did so, how could he enter on the pressing
matter of his debts? He dared not openly proclaim his object in wishing
to marry her, for had he done so her aunt might have interfered, with
what success he could not be sure. In any case it would cause delay, and
delay was what he could not afford. He felt that in mentioning his debts
at just such a movement he had given Stephen the chance she had so aptly
taken. He had to be on his good behaviour, however; and with an
apprehension that was new to him he followed her. An old Roman marble seat was placed at an angle from the house so that
the one of the two occupants within its curve must almost face the house,
whilst the other gave to it at least a quarter-face. Stephen seated
herself on the near side, leaving to Leonard the exposed position. As
soon as he was seated, she began:

'Now, Leonard, tell me all about the debts?' She spoke in tones of gay
friendliness, but behind the mask of her cheerfulness was the real face
of fear. Down deep in her mind was a conviction that her letter was a
pivotal point of future sorrow. It was in the meantime quite apparent to
her that Leonard kept it as his last resource; so her instinct was to
keep it to the front and thus minimise its power. Leonard, though inwardly weakened by qualms of growing doubt, had the
animal instinct that, as he was in opposition, his safety was in
attacking where his opponent most feared. He felt that there was some
subtle change in his companion; this was never the same Stephen Norman
whom only yesterday he had met upon the hill! He plunged at once into
his purpose. 'But it wasn't about my debts you asked me to meet you, Stephen.' 'You surprise me, Leonard! I thought I simply asked you to come to meet
me. I know the first subject I mentioned when we began to talk, after
your grumbling about coming in the heat, was your money matters.' Leonard
winced, but went on:

'It was very good of you, Stephen; but really that is not what I came to
speak of to-day. At first, at all events!' he added with a sublime
naivette, as the subject of his debts and his imperative want of money
rose before him. Stephen's eyes flashed; she saw more clearly than ever
through his purpose. Such as admission at the very outset of the proffer
of marriage, which she felt was coming, was little short of monstrous. Her companion did not see the look of mastery on her face; he was looking
down at the moment. A true lover would have been looking up. 'I wanted to tell you, Stephen, that I have been thinking over what you
said to me in your letter, and what you said in words; and I want to
accept!' As he was speaking he was looking her straight in the face. Stephen answered slowly with a puzzled smile which wrinkled up her
forehead:

'Accept what I said in my letter! why, Leonard, what do you mean? That
letter must have had a lot more in it than I thought. I seem to remember
that it was simply a line asking you to meet me. Just let me look at it;
I should like to be sure of what actually is!' As she spoke she held out
her hand. Leonard was nonplussed; he did not know what to say. Stephen
made up her mind to have the letter back. Leonard was chafing under the
position forced upon him, and tried to divert his companion from her
purpose. He knew well why she had chosen that exposed position for their
interview. Now, as her outstretched hand embarrassed him, he made
reprisal; he tried to take it in his in a tender manner. She instantly drew back her hand and put it behind her in a decided
manner. She was determined that whatever might happen she would not let
any watcher at the windows, by chance or otherwise, see any sign of
tenderness on her part. Leonard, thinking that his purpose had been
effected, went on, breathing more freely:

'Your letter wasn't much.