Part 2 (1/2)
”Well, Kitty, it's all my accident.”
”Your accident!”
”Yes; on the Alps, you know.”
”What! You haven't received any serious injury, have you?” asked Mrs.
Willoughby, with some alarm.
”Oh! I don't mean that, but I'll tell you what I mean;” and here Minnie got up from her reclining position, and allowed her little feet to touch the carpet, while she fastened her great, fond, pleading, piteous eyes upon her sister.
”It's the Count, you know,” said she.
”The Count!” repeated Mrs. Willoughby, somewhat dryly. ”Well?”
”Well--don't you know what I mean? Oh, how stupid you are!”
”I really can not imagine.”
”Well--he--he--he pro--proposed, you know.”
”Proposed!” cried the other, in a voice of dismay.
”Now, Kitty, if you speak in that horrid way I won't say another word.
I'm worried too much already, and I don't want you to scold me. And I won't have it.”
”Minnie darling, I wish you would tell me something. I'm not scolding.
I merely wish to know what you mean. Do you really mean that the Count has proposed to you?”
”Of course that's what I mean.”
”What puzzles me is, how he could have got the chance. It's more than a week since he saved you, and we all felt deeply grateful to him. But saving a girl's life doesn't give a man any claim over her; and we don't altogether like him; and so we all have tried, in a quiet way, without hurting his feelings, you know, to prevent him from having any acquaintance with you.”
”Oh, I know, I know,” said Minnie, briskly. ”He told me all that. He understands that; but he doesn't care, he says, if _I_ only consent.
He will forgive _you_, he says.”
Minnie's volubility was suddenly checked by catching her sister's eye fixed on her in new amazement.
”Now you're beginning to be horrid,” she cried. ”Don't, don't--”
”Will you have the kindness to tell me,” said Mrs. Willoughby, very quietly, ”how in the world the Count contrived to tell you all this?”
”Why--why--several times.”
”Several times!”
”Yes.”
”Tell me where?”