Part 21 (2/2)
”I don't understand,” said Stephen, beginning to look frightened; ”has it anything to do with his electrical experiments?”
Stella nodded. Then, addressing the instrument, said:
”Please stop reading for a while. Mr. Layard is calling here.”
”Confound him,” came the swift answer. ”Let me know when he is gone. He said he was going home,” whereon Stella switched off before worse things happened.
Mr. Layard, who had heard these words, began a confused explanation till Stella broke in.
”Please don't apologise. You changed your mind, and we all do that; but I am afraid this is a cold place to come to.”
”You are right there. Why on earth do you sit here so long?”
”To work, Mr. Layard.”
”Why should you work? I thought women hated it, and above all, why for Monk? Does he pay you?”
”I work because I like work, and shall go on working till I die, and afterwards I hope; also, these experiments interest me very much. Mr.
Monk does not pay me. I have never asked him to do so. Indeed, it is I who am in his debt for all the kindness he has shown to my father and myself. To any little a.s.sistance that I can give him he is welcome.”
”I see,” said Mr. Layard; ”but I should have thought that was Mary Porson's job. You know he is engaged to her, don't you?”
”Yes, but Miss Porson is not here; and if she were, perhaps she would not care for this particular work.”
Then came a pause, which, not knowing what this awkward silence might breed, Stella broke.
”I suppose you saw my father,” she said; ”how did you find him looking?”
”Oh! better, I thought; but that leg of his still seems very bad.” Then, with a gasp and a great effort, he went on: ”I have been speaking to him about you.”
”Indeed,” said Stella, looking at him with wondering eyes.
”Yes, and he says that if--it suits us both, he is quite willing; that, in fact, he would be very pleased to see you so well provided for.”
Stella could not say that she did not understand, the falsehood was too obvious. So she merely went on looking, a circ.u.mstance from which Mr.
Layard drew false auguries.
”You know what I mean, don't you?” he jerked out.
She shook her head.
”I mean--I mean that I love you, that you have given me what this horrid thing was talking about just now--understanding to the heart; yes, that's it, understanding to the heart. Will you marry me, Stella? I will make you a good husband, and it isn't a bad place, and all that, and though your father says he has little to leave you, you will be treated as liberally as though you were a lady in your own right.”
Stella smiled a little.
”Will you marry me?” he asked again.
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