The Stone of Chastity by Margery Sharp

Author:Margery Sharp [Sharp, Margery]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2021-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

2

It was most unexpected, but on that return journey—after he had been back to the Old Manor, and found Professor Pounce, and been shown the exact spot in Bowen’s brook where the Stone should be replaced—Nicholas fell in love.

It was very unexpected indeed. He considered himself to be in love already, with Carmen Smith. The company of his uncle, who had insisted on returning with him to Mrs. Thirkettle’s, rendered him (or so one would have thought) peculiarly unsusceptible to any tender emotion. His heart was doubly armoured by a prior infatuation and by a temporary sulkiness. But no armour availed him. He was for it again.

“What a very beautiful young woman,” observed Professor Pounce.

Nicholas looked gloomily round. Standing at the Vicarage gate was a girl with fair hair. She was beautiful. She was like all the fair young girls since the world began.

“Really remarkable,” murmured the Professor. “She must be Miss Crowner, though it is hard to credit.”

Nicholas said nothing. They were now only a few yards away, and he saw that her eyes were grey and kind, and her hands slim and sunburned. She stood very straight, but easily, looking out on the world and enjoying it.

“Good morning, my dear,” said Professor Pounce.

The girl smiled at him. She also smiled at Nicholas.

“I believe you must be Miss Crowner,” continued the Professor. “I am Professor Pounce, a very respectable person, although your mother may not think so. We shall always be very pleased to see you at the Old Manor whenever you can come.”

If the impetuosity of this address startled Nicholas, it did not seem to startle Bridget Crowner. She went on smiling amiably.

“Should you ever care to go for a walk,” continued Professor Pounce, “I shall always be at your service. You must also borrow books. If you like to play deck-tennis, there is a cord upon the lawn. Though my nephew here would probably give you a better game than I should.”

“I expect you’re quite good enough for me,” said Miss Crowner.

“Splendid!” said the Professor. “In that case we might also make an appropriate hole and try some putting. I hope, my dear, you have plenty of leisure?”

“Plenty,” agreed Miss Crowner. “I’m here for my holiday—that is, for a part of it.”

“For how long a part?”

“A week.”

“Then we must lose no time. Can you come round this afternoon?”

She shook her lovely head.

“Not this afternoon. It’s my first day at home.”

“Then come to-morrow. At any rate, come as soon as you can. If they say I’m in my study, don’t hesitate to disturb me. And if your mother raises any objection, tell her to consider it as a mission to the heathen. Now we mustn’t keep you. Au revoir, my dear,” said Professor Pounce.

She went up the path; the Professor waited until she reached the door, beaming after her in what Nicholas could not help feeling was a slightly ridiculous manner. He felt his uncle had made rather an exhibition of both of them.

“Well, you didn’t have much to say for yourself,” remarked the Professor, as they walked on.

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