Part 13 (1/2)
”And what did _he_ say?” asked Shank, forgetting the parental _role_ for a moment, and looking at May with a humorous smile.
”Indeed I can hardly tell. He made a great many absurd protestations, begged me to give him no decided answer just then, and said something about letting him write to me, but all I am quite sure of is that at last I had the courage to utter a very decided _No_, and then ran away and left him.”
”That was too sharp, May. Ralph is a first-rate fellow, with capital prospects. His father is rich and can give him a good start in life.
He may come back in a few years with a fortune--not a bad kind of husband for a penniless la.s.s.”
”Shank!” exclaimed May, letting go her brother's arm and facing him with flas.h.i.+ng eyes and heightened colour, ”do you really think that a fortune would make me marry a man whom I did not love?”
”Certainly not, my dear sis,” said the youth, taking May's hand and drawing it again through his arm with an approving smile. ”I never for a moment thought you capable of such meanness, but that is a very different thing from slamming the door in a poor fellow's face. You're not in love with anybody else. Ralph is a fine handsome young fellow.
You might grow to like him in time--and if you did, a fortune, of course, would be no disadvantage. Besides, he is to be my travelling companion, and might write to you about me if I were ill, or chanced to meet with an accident and were unable to write myself--don't you know?”
”He could in that case write to mother,” said May, simply.
”So he could!” returned Shank, laughing. ”I never thought o' that, my sharp sister.”
They had reached the sh.o.r.e by that time. The tide was out; the sea was calm and the sun glinted brightly on the wavelets that sighed rather than broke upon the sands.
For some distance they sauntered in silence by the margin of the sea.
The mind of each was busy with the same thought. Each was aware of that, and for some time neither seemed able to break the silence. The timid girl recovered her courage before the self-reliant man!
”Dear Shank,” she said, pressing his arm, ”you will probably be away for years.”
”Yes, May--at least for a good long time.”
”Oh forgive me, brother,” continued the girl, with sudden earnestness, ”but--but--you know your--your weakness--”
”Ay, May, I know it. Call it sin if you will--and my knowledge of it has something to do with my present determination, for, weak though I am, and bad though you think me--”
”But I _don't_ think you _bad_, dear Shank,” cried May, with tearful eyes; ”I never said so, and never thought so, and--”
”Come, come, May,” interrupted the youth, with something of banter in his manner, ”you don't think me _good_, do you?”
”Well, no--not exactly,” returned May, faintly smiling through her tears.
”Well, then, if I'm not good I must be bad, you know. There's no half-way house in this matter.”
”Is there not, Shank? Is there not _very_ good and _very_ bad?”
”Oh, well, if you come to that there's pretty-good, and rather-bad, and a host of other houses between these, such as goodish and baddish, but not one of them can be a _half-way_ house.”
”Oh yes, one of them _can_--_must_ be.”
”Which one, you little argumentative creature?” asked Shank.
”Why, middling-good of course.”
”Wrong!” cried her brother, ”doesn't middling-bad stand beside it, with quite as good a claim to be considered half-way? However, I won't press my victory too far. For the sake of peace we will agree that these are semi-detached houses in one block--and that will block the subject.
But, to be serious again,” he added, stopping and looking earnestly into his sister's face, ”I wanted to speak to you on this weakness--this sin--and I thank you for breaking the ice. The truth is that I have felt for a good while past that conviviality--”