“Was the ’47 port as good as you hoped?” I asked, sympathetically.
He sat down. I had arranged my chair so that there was none other
in its immediate neighbourhood. Thus he was some way off, and could
realize my whole silhouette.
“The ’47 port--oh yes!--but I am not going to talk of port. I want you
to tell me a lot more about yourself, and your plans.”
“I have no plans--except to see the world.”
He picked up a book, and put it down again; he was not perfectly calm.
“I don’t think I shall let you. I am more than ever convinced you ought
to have some one to take care of you; you are not of the type that
makes it altogether safe to roam about alone.”
“Oh! as for my type,” I said, languidly, “I know all about that. Mrs.
Carruthers said no one with this combination of colour could be good,
so I am not going to try. It will be quite simple.”
He rose quickly from his chair, and stood in front of the great log
fire, such a comical expression on his face.
“You are the quaintest child I have ever met,” he said.
“I am not a child--and I mean to know everything I can.”
He went over towards the sofa again, and arranged the cushions--great,
splendid, fat pillows of old Italian brocade, stiff with gold and
silver.
“Come!” he pleaded, “sit here beside me, and let us talk; you are miles
away there, and I want to--make you see reason.”
I rose at once, and came slowly to where he pointed. I settled myself
deliberately, there was one cushion of purple and silver right under
the light, and there I rested my head.
“Now talk!” I said, and half closed my eyes.
Oh! I was enjoying myself! The first time I have ever been alone with
a real man! They--the old ambassadors, and politicians, and generals,
used always to tell me I should grow into an attractive woman--now I
meant to try what I could do.
Mr. Carruthers remained silent--but he sat down beside me, and looked,
and looked right into my eyes.
“Now talk then,” I said again.
“Do you know, you are a very disturbing person,” he said at last, by
way of a beginning.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It is a woman who confuses one’s thought when one looks at her. I do
not now seem to have anything to say--or too much.”
“You called me a child.”
“I should have called you an enigma.”
I assured him I was not the least complex, and that I only wanted
everything simple, and to be left in peace, without having to get
married, or worry to obey people.
We had a nice talk.
“You won’t leave here on Saturday,” he said, presently, apropos of
nothing. “I do not think I shall go myself, to-morrow. I want you to
show me all over the gardens, and your favourite haunts.”
“To-morrow I shall be busy packing,” I said, gravely, “and I do not
think I want to show you the gardens--there are some corners I rather
loved--I believe it will hurt a little to say good-bye.”
Just then Mr. Barton came into the room, fussy and ill at ease. Mr.
Carruthers’ face hardened again, and I rose to say good-night.
As he opened the door for me: “Promise you will come down to give me my
coffee in the morning,” he said.
“_Qui vivra verra_,” I answered, and sauntered out into the hall. He
followed me, and watched as I went up the staircase.
“Good-night!” I called softly, as I got to the top, and laughed a
little--I don’t know why.
He bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time, and before I could
turn the handle of my door, he stood beside me.
“I do not know what there is about you,” he said, “but you drive me
mad--I shall insist upon carrying out my aunt’s wish after all! I shall
marry you, and never let you out of my sight--do you hear?”
Oh! such a strange sense of exaltation crept over me--it is with me
still! Of course he probably will not mean all that to-morrow, but to
have made such a stiff block of stone rush upstairs, and say this much
now is perfectly delightful!
I looked at him up from under my eyelashes. “No, you will not marry
me,” I said, calmly; “or do anything else I don’t like, and now really
good-night!” and I slipped into my room, and closed the door. I could
hear he did not stir for some seconds. Then he went off down the stairs
again, and I am alone with my thoughts.
My thoughts! I wonder what they mean. What did I do that had this
effect upon him? I intended to do something, and I did it, but I am not
quite sure what it was. However, that is of no consequence. Sufficient
for me to know that my self-respect is restored, and I can now go out
and see the world with a clear conscience.
_He_ has asked me to marry him! and _I_ have said I won’t!