Take Courage by Phyllis Bentley

the same breath how devoted Francis was to her and how he swore he would never leave her to marry, and how his father was already about a marriage treaty for him with a young lady from Halifax; and how he was soon to go to Oxford and how he hated learning and would never attend a University; and how he had promised her he would neverbe a soldier and how he was always begging his father to let him go to the Low Countries to fight; so that I was quite bewildered with so many contradictions, and found it difficult to make suitable replies.
    The oft repeating of these conversations began to make me uneasy, for though I was uncertain of Mrs. Ferrand’s meaning I was sure, from the tone in which she spoke, that it held some point disagreeable to me, and I began to puzzle over what she could intend, and be unable to dismiss the question from my mind. As a result, I became troubled over the lessons Francis took with Will. If Francis were not to go to the University, as his mother hinted, there was no more need of these lessons; and the more I thought about it, the more probable it seemed to me that Mrs. Ferrand was hitting at them, and that Francis continued them only out of generosity to Will. My cheek burned at the thought, for I was ever somewhat proud, and I began to think that my father and Will were unworldly simple people, too credulous of what men said to them to perceive hidden meanings, and that there would often be times when I, though so much younger, would see more clearly than they.
    At last I could bear it no longer, I took a decision to open the matter with Francis. On the next evening when a lesson was due, therefore, I told Sarah I wished to speak with Francis alone for a moment before Will came in. She gave me a snort and a surly look, but nodded.
    It was a lovely summer evening, and David being at church singing in the choir, as he did three times every week, my father and Will and I were sitting together in our little orchard, when Sarah came to the door and beckoned me. I ran in, and was a little disconcerted to meet Mr. Ferrand in the doorway; he had come, as he sometimes did, to pay Will his fee, it being the month’s end. However, he passed on out into the garden after a hearty greeting, and I went in. Francis was lounging against the table, his fine feathered hat dangling in his hand; he sprang up as I entered and made me one of his teasing graceful bows.
    â€œFrancis,” I said all in a breath, fearing to lose my courage if I halted, “you do not really wish these lessons, you take them out of mere kindness to Will.”
    For a moment he stood quite still, neither speaking nor moving, very tall and slender and erect, as always, his handsome head flung up and his grey eyes fixed on mine.
    â€œWhat makes you think I do not wish them?” he said then.
    His voice was not like his own, but deep and angry; I answered, troubled, that it was some words his mother had let fall.
    Francis laughed in his new deep tone.
    â€œAnd why did she tell you that, Pen? Don’t you know? Don’t you know?” he urged me in a fond teasing tone. He laughed again, and went on, for I was silent: “She thinks I am like to fall in love with you, Penninah Clarkson. And she is right.”
    The blood rushed from my heart to my cheek; I stood still and silent before him, with my eyes downcast; I could not raise my head, or stir, or utter.
    â€œPen!” said Francis, very warm and low, and he took a step towards me.
    Totally confused, I murmured: “Frank!” but yet put up my hands as a barrier against him. He took them in his own, and the next moment I was in his arms. Laughing, his grey eyes sparkling, he kissed me warmly.
    It was a moment brimming with joy and sweetness. I yielded my lips to his in love, and stroked his warm golden head with joyful fingers; for indeed my heart was his and in some sense has ever stayed so.
    Then a great laugh rang out, and there stood Mr. Ferrand and my