CHAPTER XXV
A PROPOSAL
She left me alone in the room, and I stood there for a minute or twowithout moving. I heard his quick step on the gravel path outside andthen his summons at the door. Mechanically I rang the bell anddirected that he should be shown in to me.
The door was opened and closed. Then he was ushered in, our littlemaid servant announcing him with a certain amount of unnecessaryemphasis. She withdrew at once, and we were alone together. As hetouched my hand I noticed that he was wearing a new suit of ridingclothes, which became him very well, and a big bunch of violets in hisbuttonhole.
"So I have found you at last, have I?" he said, standing over me asthough he feared I might even now try to escape. "Was it by yourmaid's mistake that I was allowed to come in this afternoon?"
"No," I answered; "I told her only a minute ago to show you in. Iwanted to see you."
"You are extremely kind," he remarked, with a note of irony in histone. "My patience was very nearly exhausted. I was beginning towonder whether I should ever see you again."
"It was becoming just a question whether you would," I remarked. "Weare closing the house up next week, I believe, and removing our'Penates' to Eastminster. Alice is busy packing already, and so oughtI to be."
"If that is a hint to me," he remarked, "I decline to take any noticeof it. I have something to say to you. I have had to wait long enoughfor the opportunity."
"A little more than a week," I murmured.
"Never mind how long," he declared. "It has seemed like a year. Tellme--are you glad that you are going away?"
"I am very glad," I admitted. "I am glad that we are all goingaway. In any case I should not have stayed. Perhaps you have heardthat I am going to London with Mrs. Fortress?"
Evidently he had not heard. He looked at me in amazement.
"With Mrs. Fortress?" he repeated. "Did you say you were going withher?"
"Yes; I am going to be her secretary. I thought that she might havetold you."
He was looking rather grave; certainly not pleased.
"I do not see what you want to be any one's secretary for," he said,frowning. "You are going to leave here. Eastminster is a very pleasantplace."
"I am afraid I should find it very dull," I answered. "I only admirecathedral cities from an external point of view. It would bore mehorribly to have to live in one."
He stood there looking down at me in absolute silence. I raised myeyes and met his steadfast gaze. I knew then that what this girl hadsaid was true. Then all of a sudden an unaccountable thinghappened. The composure on which I prided myself deserted me. My eyesfell. I could not look at him, my cheeks were flushed; my heartcommenced to beat fast; I was taken completely at a disadvantage. Heseized the opportunity and commenced to speak.
"Perhaps," he said, slowly, "you have wondered what has made me soanxious to see you these last few days. I am glad to have anopportunity of telling you. I have been wanting to for some time."
I would have given a good deal to have been able to stop him, but Icould not. I was powerless. I was as much embarrassed as the veriestschoolgirl. He went on--
"I want to ask you to be my wife. Miss Ffolliot. As you know," headded, with a sudden faint flash of humor, "I am not apt with mytongue. I am afraid that I have allowed myself to rust in manyways. But if you will make the best of me you will make me very happy;for I think you know that I love you very much."
"No, no," I cried softly, "you must not say that. I did not wish anyone to say that to me. I am not going to marry any one."
"Why not?" he asked, calmly.
"You ought not to ask me," I answered. "You know my story."
He laughed outright in kindly contempt. Then I knew I had made agreat mistake. I should have given him some other reason. This one hewould laugh to scorn. And because I had given it first he would deemit the chief one in my thoughts. Before I could stop him he had takenone of my hands and was smoothing it in his great brown palm. SomehowI forgot to draw it away.
"Did you ever seriously imagine that any such circumstance could makeone iota of difference to any man who loved you?" he asked, in a mildwonder. "It is preposterous."
"It is not preposterous," I declared. "How can you say so? Iam--nobody. I have not even a name."
"Will you please not talk nonsense?" he interrupted, firmly. "We bothknow quite well in our hearts that such a circumstance as you alludeto could not make the slightest difference--if you cared for me as Icare for you. All I want to know is--do you care--a little? If youwill give me--if you can--just a little share of your love, the restwill come. I should not be afraid to wait. I would take my chance. Ihave cared for you from the moment you first came here."
I looked up at him with wet eyes, but with a faint smile.
"You managed to conceal your sentiments admirably on our firstmeeting," I remarked.
He laughed. He was getting absolutely confident; and all this time Iwas drifting with a full knowledge of the shipwreck ahead.
"I was brutal," he said. "Somehow, do you know, you irritated me thatmorning? You looked so calm and self-possessed, and your verydaintiness made me feel rough and coarse. It was like an awakeningfor me. Yet I loved you all the time."
"I am very sorry," I said, slowly.
He flashed a keen glance upon me. His eyes tried to force mine to meetthem. I kept them away.
"You must not be sorry," he said, impetuously; "you must be glad."
But I shook my head.
"There is nothing to be glad about," I cried, with a sob in mythroat. "I do--I do--not--"
"Go on!" he pressed, relentlessly. "I do not care for you in thatway," he repeated slowly. "Is that true? An hour ago I should havedoubted you. But now--look at me and tell me so."
I nerved myself to a desperate effort. I looked up and met his stern,compelling gaze. My cheeks were pale. The words came slowly and withdifficulty. But I told my lie well.
"I do not care for you. I could never think of marrying you."
He rose at once. The tears came to my eyes with a rush. He was verypale, and there was a look in his face which hurt me.
"Thank you," he said; "you are very explicit, and I have been a clumsyfool. But you might have stopped me before. Goodbye!"
I looked up, and the words were on my lips to call him back. For themoment I had forgotten Olive Berdenstein and my bargain with her. Ifhe had been looking then it would have been all over. But already hisback was vanishing through the door. I moved slowly to the window andwatched him walk down the drive with head bent and footsteps less firmthan usual. He crossed the road and took the footpath across the parkwhich led up to the Court. In the distance, a weird little figure inher waving cloak gleaming through the faint mist, I could see OliveBerdenstein crossing the common diagonally with the evident intentionof intercepting him. I turned away from the window and laughedbitterly.
The Yellow House; Master of Men Page 25
