Part 44 (1/2)
Mrs. White had to attend to her household cares, so the lovers were again left alone. They had somewhat settled down to their new relations by this time, so they sat side by side and talked over the vague bright future before them. They arranged where they would live and so on, and formed all manner of plans, as is the way of young people in their situation.
”Why, I feel quite like an old married woman already,” said Mary at last, with a smile.
”You see we know each other pretty well by this time--we are not strangers to each other,” he replied.
”No, Harry! but I can hardly realize all this yet. Poor Mrs. King! what will become of her?” she exclaimed suddenly, as the recent events flashed across her mind.
”Oh! she will be all right, I suppose,” replied the doctor, who could hardly be expected to take much interest in Catherine's welfare.
”She was very good to me,” said Mary, thoughtfully. ”We loved each other very much.”
”How came you to live with her, Mary? I beg your pardon; that may be part of your secret.”
”Oh no! It is not. I can tell you all about that. In fact, I had made up my mind to tell you some time to-day. You ought to know something about me before you make me your wife, dear.”
”I know quite enough about you, my darling, to know that I shall always love you very much, and that you deserve the love of a better man than me,” he replied, kissing her.
”Ah! but you will be ashamed of me when I tell you this. Harry, I have deceived you. Mrs. King is not really my aunt.”
”So much the better, my pet. I am very glad to hear it.”
”I must tell you who I am, Harry. It has been on my mind for a long time to do so. Now listen, and don't interrupt me till I have finished.”
Dr. Duncan had never before inquired into her history, and now, for the first time, she told him who her parents were, of her life at Brixton, how she had run away from home, how she had been kindly treated by the unfortunate barrister, and how, at last, she had met Catherine King and had been adopted by her.
When she had completed her narration, she sobbed and covered her face with her hands. ”Ah, Harry!” she cried, ”now you know what a wicked girl I have been. You will not put trust in me any more. Do you hate me now, Harry?”
”Hate you!” he exclaimed, taking her hands from her face and kissing it.
”You silly little thing! you say that to tease me.” He paused a little, looking into her eyes as he held her head, and then continued in a voice that shook with strong pa.s.sion, ”You know I trust you--trust you as I would--as I would--yes!--even as I would trust the good G.o.d himself, who created that pure soul of yours, my queen! Ah! Mary, Mary, you do not half understand how dear you are to me now!”
”Yes I do, Harry; I have only to think of what you are to me, to understand it,” she said, smiling through her tears.
”It _is_ delicious to hear those words from your lips, Mary!”
”And you are not ashamed of me then, dear, after what I have told you?”
”Ashamed of you? No! prouder of you than ever. It is a strange history this of yours, Mary. Very few could have come out of such an ordeal unscathed, as you have done.”
”I wish I could tell you all the rest too, dear; I do so wish you knew my secret. But I have sworn not to reveal it.”
”There is now no object for revealing it, pet, except to gratify my idle curiosity; and I would not have you do that. But I have an important question to ask you.”
”What is it?”
He put his arm round her and drew her close to him. ”When are we to be married?”
”Oh! I have not thought of that yet.”