Part 93 (2/2)
”Well, then, why don't you say you are glad?”
”Because I am not glad.”
”And why? For months and months we were almost crying for money, and when, by some most fortunate and unlooked-for chance, it fell to my lot, you behaved as though some overpowering calamity had befallen you.
Why should not you be as glad of it as I am?”
”Don't speak like that, Molly,” says Luttrell, with a groan. ”You know all is over between us. The last time we met in London you yourself broke our engagement, and now do you think I shall suffer you to renew it? I am not so selfish as you imagine. I am no match for you now. You must forget me (it will not be difficult, I dare say), and it would be a downright shame to keep you to--to----”
”Then you condemn me to die an old maid, the one thing I most detest; while you, if you refuse to have me, Teddy, I shall insist on your dying an old bachelor, if only to keep me in countenance.”
”Think of what the world would say.”
”Who cares what it says? And, besides, it knows we were engaged once.”
”And also that we quarreled and parted.”
”And that we were once more united in London, where you did not despise the poor concert-singer. Were you not devoted to me then, when I had but few friends? Were you ashamed of me then?”
”Ashamed of you!”
”Once you threw me over,” says Molly, with a smile that suits the month, being half tears, half suns.h.i.+ne. ”Once I did the same by you.
That makes us quits. Now we can begin all over again.”
”Think of what all your friends will say,” says he, desperately, knowing he is losing ground, but still persisting.
”Indeed I will, because all my friends are yours, and they will think as I do.”
Two little tears steal from under her heavily-fringed lids, and run down her cheeks. Going nearer to him, she hesitates, glances at him shyly, hesitates still, and finally lays her head upon his shoulder.
Of course, when the girl you love lays her head upon your shoulder, there is only one thing to be done. Luttrell does that one thing. He instantly encircles her with his arms.
”See, I am asking you to marry me,” says Molly, raising dewy eyes to his, and blus.h.i.+ng one of her rare, sweet blushes. ”I _beg_ you to take me. If, after that, you refuse me, I shall die of shame. Why don't you speak, Teddy? Say, 'Molly, I will marry you.'”
”Oh, Molly!” returns the young man, gazing down on her despairingly, while his strong arms hold her fast, ”if you were only poor. If this cursed money----”
”Never mind the money. What do I care whether I am rich or poor? I care only for you. If you go away, I shall be the poorest wretch on earth!”
”My angel! My own darling girl!”
”No!” with a little sob. ”Say, 'My own darling wife!'”
”My own darling wife!” replies he, conquered.
”Then why don't you kiss me?” says Miss Ma.s.sereene, softly, her face dangerously close to his; and Tedcastle, stooping, forges the last link that binds him to her forever.
”Ah!” says Molly, presently, laughing gayly, although the tears still lie wet upon her cheeks, ”did you imagine for one instant you could escape _me_? At first I was so angry I almost determined to let you go,--as punishment; but afterward”--mischievously--”I began to think how unhappy you would be, and I relented.”
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