Part 34 (1/2)
She had covered every point, but like suitors the world over I would not believe her.
”Answer me a few questions,” I said. ”Yes, in justice to my proposal, which I cannot but feel does honor to both of us. Do you mean to say that your final declination of my offer is based on the fact that I read your private correspondence?”
”No, it would have been the same without that,” she answered. ”Let me add that I forgive you freely for what you did in that respect.”
”Is it because--I want to understand perfectly--you think it dishonorable to wed a man richer than you, whose acquaintance you made in an unusual way?”
She shook her head in negation.
”Is there, then, anything that you have heard, or suspect, against my reputation?”
Again she shook her head decidedly.
I took up her letter and read:
If I were of his social grade--if I could have retained the position in which I was born, he would be my ideal. Such thoughts, alas! are not for your poor friend, Marjorie.
”Those words mean something,” I said, earnestly.
Tears came into her eyes.
”Mr. Camran, do you think it is fair to press me like this?” she asked, with a sob.
”There is an adage,” I replied, ”that all is fair in love. To give you up means to shatter my existence. I have been a reckless boy. With you as my wife I would make a worthy man--worthy of you, of myself, of the n.o.ble line from which I sprung. I fear, and I say it deliberately, that if I lose you I shall sink again into the depths from which I have escaped.”
”All that,” she said, gently, ”you said when your friend Statia gave you the same answer I am compelled to give now.”
”It is jealousy!” I exclaimed, excitedly. ”You are angry because I asked her, before I had even seen you! Very well. But, understand what you are doing! I cannot go through the agony I suffered a year ago.”
She sprang up, as if to ward off an impending danger, and came so near that her face was within six inches of mine.
I looked her squarely in the eyes.
”You cannot fascinate me in that way!” I cried, bitterly. ”You have ruined a man who has taken you from poverty and given you for two months, at least, the life of a lady. Don't put your hands on me!” as she attempted to touch my shoulder. ”I have finished with you. Take the advance payment you have had and go to your home, if you have one. But, remember, by your own agreement, the clothes in which you stand belong to me. Take them off before you leave this room, give them up, or I will strip them from you by force!”
I do not know that I am quoting my exact words, but I am sure this was the sentiment that, in my rage, I expressed. At the moment I hated the woman more than I had loved her a few minutes before.
”You shall have them, every one,” answered Miss May, without the least trace of excitement. ”I will go immediately to the village and buy just enough articles of dress to make me fit to take pa.s.sage to America. All I had from you shall be packed in the trunks you bought and left behind.”
”And the jewelry,” I added, still blind with my disappointment, for she had received and was wearing it again. ”Take those rings from your hands, those diamonds from your ears. They are mine, remember. That was our agreement. I broke into Wesson's trunk and reclaimed them. They are mine!”
At the mention of Wesson she paled even more than before, but complied with my request, laying the articles on the table before me, one by one.
”Good-by,” she said, softly, going toward the door that led to her chamber.
Like an avalanche the horror of what I was doing swept over me. I rose, clutched wildly at the air, and fell, not unconscious, but with a deathly nausea. The next moment a woman's form was kneeling by my side and my head was raised to the support of a woman's arm.
”Forgive me--oh! forgive me!” was murmured convulsively in my ear.