Part 107 (1/2)
”Answer me my question, Violet.”
”I will not answer you your question,--not that one.”
”What question will you answer?”
”Any that may concern yourself and myself. None that may concern other people.”
”You told me once that you loved me.”
”This moment I told you that I did so,--years ago.”
”But now?”
”That is another matter.”
”Violet, do you love me now?”
”That is a point-blank question at any rate,” she said.
”And you will answer it?”
”I must answer it,--I suppose.”
”Well, then?”
”Oh, Oswald, what a fool you are! Love you! of course I love you.
If you can understand anything, you ought to know that I have never loved any one else;--that after what has pa.s.sed between us, I never shall love any one else. I do love you. There. Whether you throw me away from you, as you did the other day,--with great scorn, mind you,--or come to me with sweet, beautiful promises, as you do now, I shall love you all the same. I cannot be your wife, if you will not have me; can I? When you run away in your tantrums because I quote something out of the copy-book, I can't run after you. It would not be pretty. But as for loving you, if you doubt that, I tell you, you are a--fool.” As she spoke the last words she pouted out her lips at him, and when he looked into her face he saw that her eyes were full of tears. He was standing now with his arm round her waist, so that it was not easy for him to look into her face.
”I am a fool,” he said.
”Yes;--you are; but I don't love you the less on that account.”
”I will never doubt it again.”
”No;--do not; and, for me, I will not say another word, whether you choose to heave coals or not. You shall do as you please. I meant to be very wise;--I did indeed.”
”You are the grandest girl that ever was made.”
”I do not want to be grand at all, and I never will be wise any more.
Only do not frown at me and look savage.” Then she put up her hand to smooth his brow. ”I am half afraid of you still, you know. There.
That will do. Now let me go, that I may tell my aunt. During the last two months she has been full of pity for poor Lord Chiltern.”
”It has been poor Lord Chiltern with a vengeance!” said he.
”But now that we have made it up, she will be horrified again at all your wickednesses. You have been a turtle dove lately;--now you will be an ogre again. But, Oswald, you must not be an ogre to me.”
As soon as she could get quit of her lover, she did tell her tale to Lady Baldock. ”You have accepted him again!” said her aunt, holding up her hands. ”Yes,--I have accepted him again,” replied Violet.
”Then the responsibility must be on your own shoulders,” said her aunt; ”I wash my hands of it.” That evening, when she discussed the matter with her daughter, Lady Baldock spoke of Violet and Lord Chiltern, as though their intended marriage were the one thing in the world which she most deplored.