velvety purple.
There were some dances which Lisa had to have with other people, but in the main she and Mark danced together and she knew perfectly that they were arousing both interest and curiosity by their obvious interest in one another. Mrs Blewett, for one, hardly took her eyes off them as she sat watching the dancing with some of her old cronies. Heads leaned together and tongues wagged—and Lisa didn't care! This was her evening —hers and Mark's—and what other people thought just didn't matter. Of Tom she saw nothing, so presumably he hadn't come to the Manor. She was sorry things had turned out the way they had, but really, was there any need for her to blame herself? In view of the fact that Tom, besides not having asked her to be his partner, had earlier in the day obviously found quite a lot of pleasure in Celia Palmer's company was surely reason enough for her to assume that he'd made his own arrangements for the evening!
There was a sudden crackling bang from the paddock. The firework display was about to begin and everyone trooped excitedly out, Lisa and Mark among them. But instead of keeping to the path that everyone else was using, he drew her aside to a narrower one.
'This way!' he whispered.
'But that leads to the rose garden—and Mr Cosgrave has made it quite clear that it's out of bounds for the Fete,' Lisa objected, pulling away from him.
'It's not out of bounds for us,' Mark insisted. 'Please, Lisa! We'll have almost as good a view of the fireworks as in the paddock. And we'll have it to ourselves.'
It was very lovely in the rose garden, still and quiet and peaceful. And though they could not see the flowers, their perfume was everywhere. In the distance they could hear the band, still faithfully playing on, but now, by chance, they were playing a medley of the sweeter, older tunes. They blended perfectly with the magic of the rose garden.
Lisa's heart quickened to the sheer intoxication of the night, and so, it seemed, did Mark's. Just for a moment he hesitated, then slowly, very gently, he drew her into his arms. Lisa felt herself trembling, not with fear but with the nearness and dearness of Mark—and the knowledge that he felt as she did.
'Lisa!' He did no more than breathe her name, but it said everything—it told her that he loved her, it asked her for her love.
Simply and fearlessly Lisa held her face up to his and their lips met.
Time passed. Great flaming flowers filled the sky with their transient beauty. Mr Cosgrave, concerned to see that no one was transgressing the very few conditions he had laid down, came to the entry to the rose garden, paused for a moment and went quietly away again.
But of all this, neither Mark nor Lisa was aware. This was their moment, their world.
Late though it was when Mark returned to the Manor after having taken Lisa home that night, he heard his name called as he crossed the hall. He frowned irritably. It was in many ways very pleasant to stay at the Manor, but he was growing increasingly aware that there always seemed someone who was checking his every movement. This time it wasn't Evadne, however, but her father who intercepted him.
Mark was smiling as he went into the study.
'You wanted me, sir?' he asked pleasantly.
'Just wanted to have a word with you. Won't keep you long.' Mr Cosgrave stubbed out his cigar, his eyes intent on Mark's face. 'You're looking very pleased with yourself, young man!' he commented.
'Then I'm looking just the way I feel,' Mark said jubilantly—but at the same time, he instinctively braced his shoulders. The significance of the movement was not lost to the older man.
'So it's to be the little Bellairs girl,' Mr Cosgrave stated rather than asked.
'Yes, sir. That's quite definite,' Mark said firmly.
Mr Cosgrave nodded.
'That's the way I like to hear a young man speak,' he said approvingly. 'You know your own mind, and you're not afraid to speak it.'
Mark said nothing, but his eyes grew wary. He knew
There were some dances which Lisa had to have with other people, but in the main she and Mark danced together and she knew perfectly that they were arousing both interest and curiosity by their obvious interest in one another. Mrs Blewett, for one, hardly took her eyes off them as she sat watching the dancing with some of her old cronies. Heads leaned together and tongues wagged—and Lisa didn't care! This was her evening —hers and Mark's—and what other people thought just didn't matter. Of Tom she saw nothing, so presumably he hadn't come to the Manor. She was sorry things had turned out the way they had, but really, was there any need for her to blame herself? In view of the fact that Tom, besides not having asked her to be his partner, had earlier in the day obviously found quite a lot of pleasure in Celia Palmer's company was surely reason enough for her to assume that he'd made his own arrangements for the evening!
There was a sudden crackling bang from the paddock. The firework display was about to begin and everyone trooped excitedly out, Lisa and Mark among them. But instead of keeping to the path that everyone else was using, he drew her aside to a narrower one.
'This way!' he whispered.
'But that leads to the rose garden—and Mr Cosgrave has made it quite clear that it's out of bounds for the Fete,' Lisa objected, pulling away from him.
'It's not out of bounds for us,' Mark insisted. 'Please, Lisa! We'll have almost as good a view of the fireworks as in the paddock. And we'll have it to ourselves.'
It was very lovely in the rose garden, still and quiet and peaceful. And though they could not see the flowers, their perfume was everywhere. In the distance they could hear the band, still faithfully playing on, but now, by chance, they were playing a medley of the sweeter, older tunes. They blended perfectly with the magic of the rose garden.
Lisa's heart quickened to the sheer intoxication of the night, and so, it seemed, did Mark's. Just for a moment he hesitated, then slowly, very gently, he drew her into his arms. Lisa felt herself trembling, not with fear but with the nearness and dearness of Mark—and the knowledge that he felt as she did.
'Lisa!' He did no more than breathe her name, but it said everything—it told her that he loved her, it asked her for her love.
Simply and fearlessly Lisa held her face up to his and their lips met.
Time passed. Great flaming flowers filled the sky with their transient beauty. Mr Cosgrave, concerned to see that no one was transgressing the very few conditions he had laid down, came to the entry to the rose garden, paused for a moment and went quietly away again.
But of all this, neither Mark nor Lisa was aware. This was their moment, their world.
Late though it was when Mark returned to the Manor after having taken Lisa home that night, he heard his name called as he crossed the hall. He frowned irritably. It was in many ways very pleasant to stay at the Manor, but he was growing increasingly aware that there always seemed someone who was checking his every movement. This time it wasn't Evadne, however, but her father who intercepted him.
Mark was smiling as he went into the study.
'You wanted me, sir?' he asked pleasantly.
'Just wanted to have a word with you. Won't keep you long.' Mr Cosgrave stubbed out his cigar, his eyes intent on Mark's face. 'You're looking very pleased with yourself, young man!' he commented.
'Then I'm looking just the way I feel,' Mark said jubilantly—but at the same time, he instinctively braced his shoulders. The significance of the movement was not lost to the older man.
'So it's to be the little Bellairs girl,' Mr Cosgrave stated rather than asked.
'Yes, sir. That's quite definite,' Mark said firmly.
Mr Cosgrave nodded.
'That's the way I like to hear a young man speak,' he said approvingly. 'You know your own mind, and you're not afraid to speak it.'
Mark said nothing, but his eyes grew wary. He knew
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