Part 72 (2/2)
”Oswald, you are so violent, so headstrong. I am afraid of you,--as is everybody. Why have you not written to your father, as we have asked you?”
”I will write to him instantly, now, before I leave the room, and you shall dictate the letter to him. By heavens, you shall!” He had dropped her hands when she called him violent; but now he took them again, and still she permitted it. ”I have postponed it only till I had spoken to you once again.”
”No, Lord Chiltern, I will not dictate to you.”
”But will you love me?” She paused and looked down, having even now not withdrawn her hands from him. But I do not think he knew how much he had gained. ”You used to love me,--a little,” he said.
”Indeed,--indeed, I did.”
”And now? Is it all changed now?”
”No,” she said, retreating from him.
”How is it, then? Violet, speak to me honestly. Will you be my wife?”
She did not answer him, and he stood for a moment looking at her.
Then he rushed at her, and, seizing her in his arms, kissed her all over,--her forehead, her lips, her cheeks, then both her hands, and then her lips again. ”By G----, she is my own!” he said. Then he went back to the rug before the fire, and stood there with his back turned to her. Violet, when she found herself thus deserted, retreated to a sofa, and sat herself down. She had no negative to produce now in answer to the violent a.s.sertion which he had p.r.o.nounced as to his own success. It was true. She had doubted, and doubted,--and still doubted. But now she must doubt no longer. Of one thing she was quite sure. She could love him. As things had now gone, she would make him quite happy with a.s.surances on that subject. As to that other question,--that fearful question, whether or not she could trust him,--on that matter she had better at present say nothing, and think as little, perhaps, as might be. She had taken the jump, and therefore why should she not be gracious to him? But how was she to be gracious to a lover who stood there with his back turned to her?
After the interval of a minute or two he remembered himself, and turned round. Seeing her seated, he approached her, and went down on both knees close at her feet. Then he took her hands again, for the third time, and looked up into her eyes.
”Oswald, you on your knees!” she said.
”I would not bend to a princess,” he said, ”to ask for half her throne; but I will kneel here all day, if you will let me, in thanks for the gift of your love. I never kneeled to beg for it.”
”This is the man who cannot make speeches.”
”I think I could talk now by the hour, with you for a listener.”
”Oh, but I must talk too.”
”What will you say to me?”
”Nothing while you are kneeling. It is not natural that you should kneel. You are like Samson with his locks shorn, or Hercules with a distaff.”
”Is that better?” he said, as he got up and put his arm round her waist.
”You are in earnest?” she asked.
”In earnest. I hardly thought that that would be doubted. Do you not believe me?”
”I do believe you. And you will be good?”
”Ah,--I do not know that.”
”Try, and I will love you so dearly. Nay, I do love you dearly. I do.
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