Will You Love Me in September

I watched Dickon wince.

"Hopeless!" went on Lance. "What they thought they were doing, I can't imagine. What happened, Clarissa? Did you long to come home?”

"It seemed time that I did.”

Lance laughed out loud. "She's a determined young lady," he said to Dickon. "I expect you found that out at Hessenfield.”

Dickon nodded.

When we came into the house, Laura Garston, the mayor's wife, after she had expressed her amazement at seeing me, greeted me warmly.

"These two young people are exhausted," said Lance. "Clarissa is going to tell us all about it later on. In the meantime they would like to wash and eat and rest, I do not doubt. This is Jack Thorley, one of Hessenfield's young men.”

Dickon had a nobility of manner which was immediately discernible to Lance. He had at first thought him to be a groom, but in a few seconds, man of the world that he was, he was treating Dickon as an equal. I liked him for it, and in spite of the fact that I was worried about Dickon I felt a glow of pleasure to be in his exhilarating company again.

In the house rooms were prepared for us and we washed away the grime of the journey.

As soon as we had done this we had a meal, during which Dickon and I had a chance to exchange a few words together.

"I cannot stay here," he said. "I shall have to go.”

"Shall we see each other again?”

"We shall. We must. I will think of something.”

"Taney will send me home. We shall be miles apart.”

"I tell you I will find a way. If I stay here ... if they know who I am ...”

'Yes, yes. You are in as much danger here as I was in Hessenneld. These stupid ... stupid men! I get so angry with them.”

"This is no time for anger. I must leave here at once.”

"Yes, you must go. I see that. When my uncle comes back ... when they start asking questions ...”

"They will not be so friendly toward me then. Oh, Clarissa, why did you have to be with them? You belong with us.”

"I belong to myself and I am aloof from these foolish quarrels. I don't care whether you are for George or James. You know that.”

"I love you," said Dickon.

"I love you," I replied.

We smiled at each other. "Those days in the attic. ... I shall never forget them,”

he said.

"Nor shall I.I wish I were back there. I wish I were still on the road. I wish I were in Makeshift Gallery.”

"Oh. Clarissa, Clarissa ..." That way of repeating my name never failed to move me. "I will come back for you. No matter what happens, I swear I will come.”

"Yes, I know. And you must go now, Dickon. You are facing dangerous risk, and the longer you stay the more dangerous it becomes for you. I shall be thinking of you ... on the road ... back there ... Shall you go to Scotland? Oh, Dickon, don't.

Leave them to fight their silly wars if they must, but not you ... not you...

. Let us think of a way we can be together.”

"When it is over. When the rightful King is on the throne ... I will come for you.

I will ask for your hand in marriage. I will take you away with me and we shall live happily ever after.”

We sat silently holding hands. Then he rose and said, "Now I shall go to our hostess.

I shall tell her I must leave first thing in the morning. It is better so. When I am gone you can tell them the truth, who I am ... everything. It will be easier that way.”

I nodded miserably.

So that sad night passed. We were taken to our separate rooms. He had to share with one of the higher servants because that was all that was available. I had a small room of my own. I lay awake thinking of him, and I knew he was thinking of me. At dawn I went down to the stables.

We clung together for a few moments. His last words before he rode away were, "I'll come back. Remember it. I shall come back for you, Clarissa.”

I stood watching him ride away in the early morning light.

There was a great deal of explaining to do, and when Uncle Carl and Lance heard my story they were horrified.

"How could Lord Hessenfield send you away like that!" cried Uncle Carl.

"How could he keep her there?" asked Lance. "He did the right thing. Gad, what could have happened to her in the hands of Frenshaw!”

"They thought I was spying," I explained.

"A pretty kettle of fish," said Uncle Carl. "Now the problem is, what are we going to do with you? You know what's happening, don't you? The country's in a state of tension. The fact that those Highlanders got as far as Preston has shaken us all up a bit. Who would have believed that possible? The north is a hotbed of treachery.”

"They say the same of the south.”

"Ah," cried Lance, "have they made a little Jacobite of you?”

"Indeed they have not! I think the whole matter is stupid. Who ' cares ... ?”

Lance took my hand and kissed it. "Your feminine reasoning doubtless displays wisdom,”