Part 30 (2/2)
”Well, I'm not afraid.”
”But suppose you stay too late, and get caught. You'd have to remain here all winter. The Park, Huntington says, is as tight as a jail after the snows come.”
”Claire stays here through the winter sometimes.”
He felt a fresh alarm, and showed it. It would be just like her! he thought.
”See here, Marion!” he said, plunging at last. ”I've obeyed your order not to say anything about--the future. I meant not to say anything until the time was up. But you must see I can't keep silent now, after--what's happened. You must know I can't go away and leave you without knowing what--it all means. You said you'd tell me as soon as you'd finished nursing--him. No, wait, please! Let me say it at once.
You know I love you. I want you to marry me. I need you, Marion.
There's never been an hour, a minute that I haven't thought of you. I can't work--I can't do anything without you. I love you more than--”
”Stop, Robert!” she cried. ”You're making it harder for both of us.”
”Harder--for--both of us?” he repeated slowly.
”Yes.”
There was a moment's silence. Hillyer, while he spoke, had half-consciously stopped the automobile, which stood now, humming softly, in the middle of the road that stretched white and empty ahead of them and behind them. The night breeze had risen, blowing cold from the snows, and the shadows were creeping down into the valley, as if they came from dark caverns in the hills.
”Robert,” she said sadly. ”It's no use. I must tell you. I--I can't marry you.”
”Why?”
”You make me say it!” she cried. ”Well, Robert, I--I don't love you.”
”I'm not asking you to love me!” he rejoined, almost savagely. ”I only ask you--”
”Listen!” she interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. ”That's not all.”
”You mean--”
She stopped him with a pressure on his arm.
”Once, not knowing, I almost consented,” she went on. ”But something checked me--held me back. You remember how restless I was--how troubled. You would have laughed at me if I had told you. But something seemed to be calling me--a voice from a long distance. I laughed at myself for a foolish girl--at first. I said it was nerves, and I fought against it. And it was then that I came nearest to saying yes to you, thinking that I was indeed foolish in holding back. I liked you. I've always liked you, Robert. You'd been such a splendid friend, and I was grateful. I wanted to repay you--”
She stopped suddenly, and a flush mounted swiftly into her pale cheeks. Repay! The word recalled sharply to her, acutely and painfully, all that Haig had said about paying her. Were they, then, in the same dreadful situation, she and Haig, with debts they could never pay? For the first time some sense of the terrible finality of his decision struck in upon her secret hopes.
”Don't talk of that!” Robert was saying, seizing the moment of silence. ”I never--”
”But always, when I was about to yield--I couldn't. I didn't know why then. But now I do.”
”You mean--Haig?” he asked hoa.r.s.ely.
”Yes.”
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