SHE PROPOSES
She was still in her riding habit when I found her alone in the parlour
of the Titus suite.
I give you my word my heart almost stopped beating. I've never seen
any one so lovely as she was at that moment. _Never_, I repeat. Her
hair, blown by the kind November winds, strayed--but no! I cannot
begin to define the loveliness of her. There was a warm, rich glow in
her cheeks and a light in her eyes that actually bewildered me, and
more than that I am not competent to utter.
"You have come at last," she said, and her voice sounded very far off;
although I was lifting her ungloved hand to my lips. She clenched my
fingers tightly, I remember that; and also that my hand shook violently
and that my face _felt_ pale.
I think I said that I had come at last. She took my other hand in hers
and drawing dangerously close to me said:
"I do not expect to be married for at least a year, John."
"I--I congratulate you," I stammered foolishly.
"I have a feeling that it isn't decent for one to marry inside of two
years after one has been divorced."
"How is Rosemary?" I murmured.
"You _are_ in love with me, aren't you, John, dear?"
"Goo--good heaven!" I gasped.
"I _know_ you are. That's why I am so sure of myself. Is it asking too
much of you to marry me in a year from--"
I haven't the faintest notion how long afterward it was that I asked
her what was to become of that poor, unlucky devil, Lord Amberdale.
"He isn't a devil. He's a dear, and he is going to marry a
bred-in-the-bone countess next January. You will like him, because he
is every bit as much in love with his real countess are you are with
a sham one. He is a bird of your feather. And now don't you want to
come with me to see Rosemary?"
"Rosemary," I murmured, as in a dream--a luxurious lotus-born dream.
She took my arm and advanced with me into a room adjoining the parlour.
As we passed through the door, she suddenly squeezed my arm very tightly
and laid her head against my shoulder.
We were in a small sitting-room, confronting Jasper Titus, his wife
and his tiny grand-daughter, who was ready for bed.
"You won't have to worry about me any longer, daddy dear," said Aline,
her voice suddenly breaking.
"Well, I'll be--well, well, well!" cried my late victim of the links.
"Is _this_ the way the wind blows?"
I was perfectly dumb. My face was scarlet. My dazzled eyes saw nothing
but the fine, aristocratic features of Aline's mother. She was leaning
slightly forward in her chair, and a slow but unmistakable joyous smile
was creeping into her face.
"Aline!" she cried, and Aline went to her.
Jasper Titus led Rosemary up to me.
"Kiss the gentleman, kiddie," said he huskily, lifting the little one
up to me.
She gave a sudden shriek of recognition, and I took her in my arms.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed I, without the slightest idea of what I was doing
or why I did it. Sometimes I wonder if there has ever been any insanity
in our family. I know there have been fools, for I have my Uncle Rilas's
word for it.
Mr. Titus picked up the newspaper he had been reading.
"Listen to this, Allie. It will interest you. It says here that our
friend Tarnowsy is going to marry that fool of a Cincinnati girl we
were talking about the other day. I know her father, but I've never
met her mother. Old Bob Thackery has got millions but he's only got
one daughter. What a blamed shame!"
* * * * *
It must be perfectly obvious to you, kind reader, that I am going to
marry Aline Tarnowsy, in spite of all my professed opposition to
marrying a divorcee. I argued the whole matter out with myself, but
not until after I was irrevocably committed. She says she needs me.
Well, isn't that enough? In fact, I am now trying my best to get her
to shorten the probationary period. She has taken off three months,
God bless her, but I still hope for a further and more generous
reduction--for good behaviour!
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's A Fool and His Money, by George Barr McCutcheon