ALINE. [_Quickly._] I did not say that.
CROCKSTEAD. And who prided himself on his repulsiveness. Very true, in the
main, and yet consider! My wealth dates back ten years; till then I had
known hunger, and every kind of sorrow and despair. I had stretched out
longing arms to the world, but not a heart opened to me. And suddenly,
when the taste of men's cruelty was bitter in my mouth, capricious fortune
snatched me from abject poverty and gave me delirious wealth. I was
ploughing a barren field, and flung up a nugget. From that moment gold
dogged my footsteps. I enriched the few friends I had--they turned
howlingly from me because I did not give them more. I showered money on
whoever sought it of me--they cursed me because it was mine to give. In my
poverty there had been the bond of common sorrow between me and my
fellows: in my wealth I stand alone, a modern Ishmael, with every man's
hand against me.
ALINE. [_Gently._] Why do you tell me this?
CROCKSTEAD. Because I am no longer asking you to marry me. Because you are
the first person in all these years who has been truthful and frank with
me. And because, perhaps, in the happiness that will, I trust, be yours, I
want you to think kindly of me. [_She puts out her hand, he takes it._]
And now, shall we return to the ball-room? The music has stopped; they
must be going to supper.
ALINE. What shall I say to the Marchioness, my mother, and the Duchess, my
aunt?
CROCKSTEAD. You will acquaint those noble ladies with the fact of your
having refused me.
[_They have both risen, and move up the room together._
ALINE. I shall be a nine days' wonder. And how do you propose to carry
out your little scheme?
CROCKSTEAD. I will take Saturday's boat--you will give me a line to your
cousin. I had better state the case plainly to him, perhaps?
ALINE. That demands consideration.
CROCKSTEAD. And I will tell you what you shall do for me in return. Find
me a wife!