Part 9 (2/2)

George paused, and drummed on the table with his fingers nervously.

”I may as well tell you all,” he resumed. ”I had resolved to ask that girl to marry me when we started on our ride, but after what she said to me so simply and modestly, I positively could not do it. She expected me to speak, I know that, for she would not have told me what she did tell me, otherwise.”

”So you didn't speak? Oh, stupid, stupid boy!”

”I know it. But my tongue was tied. Perhaps it was all cowardice; I can't say. I never was afraid of any one before. I came home utterly shattered and down-hearted. To-day I gravitated back to her, after a sleepless night. She received me with the same friendly smile as usual, but there seemed to be a slight shadow over her spirits. That little, almost imperceptible change filled me with joy. I jumped to a conclusion that intoxicated me, and made the plunge at once.

”'It is another case of the moth and the candle,' I said to her.

”'Thank you. So I am a candle? That is a fine figure of speech.'

”'Seriously speaking, I think we had not finished what we were talking of yesterday.'

”'What were we talking of yesterday?' she had the effrontery to ask.

'Oh, yes, now I recollect. It was yourself. That subject, I fear, you will never finish talking of.'

”'Now that's a very mean speech, all things considered,' I whined. 'Do you want to strike a man, when he's way down?'

”'Don't play Uriah Heep. I hate 'umble people. But if I have perchance pierced the thick epidermis of Parisian pride you have so long worn, I'm glad of it.'

”She likes to abuse me, and I enjoy it quite as well as she. She continued to scold me and mock me for some time, to disguise her actual mood. I saw through it, and let her have her way for a while. The meeker my replies, the greater the exaggerated harshness of her criticisms. At last I no longer attempted to reply at all. Leaning back in a corner of the sofa, I watched the play of her animated features and the light of her dark brown eyes, and felt that she was the one woman in the universe that suited me, the one woman I could respect and love pa.s.sionately at the same time.

”'You say truly I am a coward. I am aware of that. I admit that I am all that is detestable. If such a wretch as you describe were to love a woman, what unhappiness for him! There could be no hope for him. He would know his own irredeemable unworthiness, and so could only slink away in shame.'

”'You are quite right,' she cried, laughing merrily. 'That would be the only course for him to pursue.'

”'By the way,' I said, 'that reminds me that my train goes out in twenty minutes.'

”I rose, and she also stood up to accompany me to the door. I held out my hand. It was an unusual demonstration, and perhaps she thought it meant good-by in earnest. At least, as she put her hand in mine, I detected a look I had never before seen in the depths of those fine eyes. With a sudden, unpremeditated, and irresistible movement, I drew her close to me, folded my arms about her, and kissed her pa.s.sionately.

”'Clara!' I whispered, 'I love you! I love you! Don't tell me to go.'

”She gently drew herself out of my reluctant arms, and though her eyes were misty now, I saw in them that I was to stay.

”That's all the story I have to tell you, Charlie. I am too happy to-night to sleep, so I couldn't let you sleep. I stayed and spent the evening. Mr. Desmond, bless his dear old heart! cried over Clara, and gave her an old-fas.h.i.+oned blessing. I walked home on air. Do I look very badly corned?”

I gave him a rousing hand-shake, and wiped away a stray bit of moisture from my cheek.

”May I tell Bessie?” were my first words when I found my tongue.

”Why not? There will be no long engagement in this case. The knot shall be tied as soon as possible.”

The announcement I made to my little wife the following morning was not entirely unexpected, yet it filled her with delight. Miss Van was the woman of all others that Bessie wished to have George marry. The arrangement was, therefore, completely to her satisfaction, and she beamed upon the happy George with true sisterly affection.

What effect would the news have upon Mrs. Pinkerton? I asked myself. I had not long to wait for an answer, for it was at the breakfast-table that George fired the shot.

”Mother,” said the bold youth, ”I'm going to be married.”

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