"Pray what makes you think so?"
"You like your own way, don't you? I--er--I have received that
impression."
"I was about to add," I said coldly, "that, since I have lived at
`Pastimes,' I have not had my own way at all. I have not wanted it.
Mrs Fane's character is stronger than mine. I have been content to
abdicate in her favour. If you asked her opinion of me, she would
probably tell you that I was too pliable--too easily influenced."
Silence. The blunt, roughly-hewn profile stared stolidly ahead. A
granite wall would have shown as much expression. I was seized with an
immense, a devastating curiosity to discover what he was thinking. I
fixed my eyes steadily upon him, mentally willing him to turn round.
He knew I was doing it. I could see the red rise above his collar rim,
and mount steadily to his ears.
He was determined that he would not speak. I was equally determined
that he should.
"Mr Maplestone! I am waiting for a remark."
"Miss Wastneys, I--er--I have no remark to make."
"You don't recognise me in the latter _role_?"
"I--er--I can't say that I do! On the few occasions on which we have
met, you have appeared to me to be abundantly--er--to be, in short, the
ruling spirit."
I thought of that first interview in the inn when the brunt of the
bargaining had fallen on me; I thought of the tragic evening at the
"Hall," when I had arranged a hurried departure, without apparently
consulting Charmion's wishes. Appearances were against me, and it was
impossible to explain them away. I said, in a cross, hurt voice:--
"Oh, of course, you think me everything that is disagreeable and
domineering. It is just as I said--men see only one thing, and it
colours their whole view. If I lived a lifetime of meekness and
self-abnegation, you would never forget that affair of the lease. And
it was your own fault, too! You were the unreasonable one, not I; but
all the same, you have never forgiven. Delphine told me how much you
disliked me."
His eyes met mine, frankly, without a flicker of shame.
"Did she? That was wrong of her. She had no business to repeat--"
"You acknowledge it, then! You _did_ say so?"
"I did. Oh, yes. It's quite true."
It was a shock. At that moment I realised that, in my vanity, I had
never really believed Delphine's statement. The Squire had made some
casual remark which she had misunderstood, misquoted--such had been the
subconscious explanation with which I had assuaged my complacency; but
now out of his own lips, openly, unhesitatingly, the verdict was
confirmed! I felt as if a pail of water had been emptied over my head.
"And you--you really meant--"
"If I had not meant it, I should hardly have said--"
"I can't think why! What had I done? If it was that affair of the
lease--"
"It was not. I was amazed at the time, but I got over that. It was
just--"
"What?"
"It is difficult to say. It's not an easy subject to discuss. Need we
go on?"
"I think so. I think it is my right. In justice to myself, I think you
ought to tell me how I have made myself so disagreeable. It might be
useful to me in the future!"
For all answer he steered the car to the side of the road, brought it to
a standstill, and descended from his seat. There was an air of
deliberation about the proceeding which sent a shiver down my spine.
The inference was that the enumeration of my faults was so lengthy a
business that it could not be undertaken by a man who had other work in
hand. I sat in nervous fascination, watching him slowly cross to my
side of the car, lean forward, and place both hands on the screen. His
face was quite close to mine. It looked suddenly white and tense. He
opened his lips and spoke:--
"Evelyn, will you be my wife?"
If I live to be a hundred, never--no, never shall I forget the electric
shock of that moment! To be prepared to listen to a lecture on one's
faults and failings, and to hear in its place a proposal of marriage--
could anything be more paralysing? And to have it hurled at one with no
warning, no preliminary "leading up," and from Ralph Maplestone of all
people--the most reserved, the most unsusceptible, the most woman-hating
of mankind! I sat petrified, unable to move or to speak, unable to do
anything but stare, and stare, and stare, and listen with incredulous
ears to a string of passionate protestations. Half of what he said was
lost in the dazed bewilderment of the moment, but what I _did_ hear,
went something like this:--
"You are the first woman--the only woman. Before you came I was
content. Since we met, I have been in torment. You woke me up. When a
man is roused from a trance it gives him pain. You brought pain to me--
sleeplessness, discontent, a craving that grew and grew. I wished we
had never met--you had upset my life; I believed that I hated you for
it. Delphine questioned me. It was then I told her that I disliked
you. I meant it--I _thought_ I meant it! I longed for you to disappear
and leave me in peace, yet all the time I thought of you more and more.
Your smile! Whenever we met, you smiled, and the remembrance of it
followed me home. Wherever I went your face haunted me. I planned to
go away, to travel, to break myself loose; but it was no use, I could
not go. I dreaded to see you, but I dreaded more to go away. I hung
about the places you might pass. That dress with the flounces! I could
see the blue of it coming toward me through the branches. That night
you were ill! All the colour went out of your cheeks. I would have
given my life--my life! I have never loved before. I did not know what
love meant, but you have taught me. You have waked me from sleep. I'm
not good enough--a surly brute! Couldn't expect any girl to care; but
for seven years--twice seven years--I'd serve, I'd wait. Oh, my
beautiful, my beautiful--if you could see yourself! How can I stay
here, and let you go? Marry me! Marry me! This week, to-morrow--what
are conventions to us? I'll be good to you. All the love of my life is
waiting--I've never squandered it away. It has been stored up in my
heart for you."