Part 32 (1/2)

”Why not?” Amelius asked.

She persisted in working, as industriously as if she had been a poor needlewoman, with serious reasons for being eager to get her money. ”It is useless,” she replied, ”to speak of what cannot be for some time to come.”

Amelius stopped the progress of the embroidery by taking her hand. Her devotion to her work irritated him.

”Look at me, Regina,” he said, steadily controlling himself. ”I want to propose that we shall give way a little on both sides. I won't hurry you; I will wait a reasonable time. If I promise that, surely you may yield a little in return. Money seems to be a hard taskmaster, my darling, after what you have told me about your uncle. See how he suffers because he is bent on being rich; and ask yourself if it isn't a warning to us not to follow his example! Would you like to see _me_ too wretched to speak to you, or to eat my breakfast--and all for the sake of a little outward show? Come, come! let us think of ourselves. Why should we waste the best days of our life apart, when we are both free to be happy together? I have another good friend besides Rufus--the good friend of my father before me. He knows all sorts of great people, and he will help me to some employment. In six months' time I might have a little salary to add to my income. Say the sweetest words, my darling, that ever fell from your lips--say you will marry me in six months!”

It was not in a woman's nature to be insensible to such pleading as this. She all but yielded. ”I should like to say it, dear!” she answered, with a little fluttering sigh.

”Say it, then!” Amelius suggested tenderly.

She took refuge again in her embroidery. ”If you would only give me a little time,” she suggested, ”I might say it.”

”Time for what, my own love?”

”Time to wait, dear, till my uncle is not quite so anxious as he is now.”

”Don't talk of your uncle, Regina! You know as well as I do what he would say. Good heavens! why can't you decide for yourself? No! I don't want to hear over again about what you owe to Mr. Farnaby--I heard enough of it on that day in the shrubbery. Oh, my dear girl, do have some feeling for me! do for once have a will of your own!”

Those last words were an offence to her self-esteem. ”I think it's very rude to tell me I have no will of my own,” she said, ”and very hard to press in this way when you know I am in trouble.” The inevitable handkerchief appeared, adding emphasis to the protest--and the becoming tears showed themselves modestly in Regina's magnificent eyes.

Amelius started out of his chair, and walked away to the window. That last reference to Mr. Farnaby's pecuniary cares was more than he had patience to endure. ”She can't even forget her uncle and his bank,” he thought, ”when I am speaking to her of our marriage!”

He kept his face hidden from her, at the window. By some subtle process of a.s.sociation which he was unable to trace, the image of Simple Sally rose in his mind. An irresistible influence forced him to think of her--not as the poor, starved, degraded, half-witted creature of the streets, but as the grateful girl who had asked for no happier future than to be his servant, who had dropped senseless at his feet at the bare prospect of parting with him. His sense of self-respect, his loyalty to his betrothed wife, resolutely resisted the unworthy conclusion to which his own thoughts were leading him. He turned back again to Regina; he spoke so loudly and so vehemently that the gathering flow of her tears was suspended in surprise. ”You're right, you're quite right, my dear! I ought to give you time, of course. I try to control my hasty temper, but I don't always succeed--just at first. Pray forgive me; it shall be exactly as you wish.”

Regina forgave him, with a gentle and ladylike astonishment at the excitable manner in which he made his excuses. She even neglected her embroidery, and put her face up to him to be kissed. ”You are so nice, dear,” she said, ”when you are not violent and unreasonable. It is such a pity you were brought up in America. Won't you stay to lunch?”

Happily for Amelius, the footman appeared at this critical moment with a message: ”My mistress wishes particularly to see you, sir, before you go.”

This was the first occasion, in the experience of the lovers, on which Mrs. Farnaby had expressed her wishes through the medium of a servant, instead of appearing personally. The curiosity of Regina was mildly excited. ”What a very odd message!” she said; ”what does it mean? My aunt went out earlier than usual this morning, and I have not seen her since. I wonder whether she is going to consult you about my uncle's affairs?”

”I'll go and see,” said Amelius.

”And stay to lunch?” Regina reiterated.

”Not to-day, my dear.”

”To-morrow, then?”

”Yes, to-morrow.” So he escaped. As he opened the door, he looked back, and kissed his hand. Regina raised her head for a moment, and smiled charmingly. She was hard at work again over her embroidery.

CHAPTER 5

The door of Mrs. Farnaby's ground-floor room, at the back of the house, was partially open. She was on the watch for Amelius.

”Come in!” she cried, the moment he appeared in the hall. She pulled him into the room, and shut the door with a bang. Her face was flushed, her eyes were wild. ”I have something to tell you, you dear good fellow,”

she burst out excitedly--”Something in confidence, between you and me!”

She paused, and looked at him with sudden anxiety and alarm. ”What's the matter with you?” she asked.