"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 neighborhood. 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 color 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 thoughts 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 favorite 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's 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 up-stairs 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!