Part 85 (1/2)

”Mr. Maitland is too accomplished a man of the world to need being told that, when a person has declared an indisposition to receive, it is usually deemed enough to secure privacy.”

”Usually,--yes; but there are occasions which are not in this category.”

”And do you mean to say this is one of them, sir?” said she, haughtily.

”Most certainly, madam, this is one of them!” As Mait-land said this, he saw the color mount to her face; and he saw, too, how, now that her proud spirit was, as it were, challenged, she would not think of retreat, but brave him, whatever might come of it.

”Indeed!” said she, with a scornful laugh,--”indeed!” and the last syllable was drawn out in an accent of most insolent irony.

”Yes, madam,” he continued, in a tone perfectly calm and un impa.s.sioned; ”our last relations together fully warrant me to say so much; and however presumptuous it might have been in me to aspire as I did, the gracious favor with which I was listened to seemed to plead for me.”

”What favor do you speak of, sir?” said she, with evident agitation.

”I must not risk the faint hope that remains to me, by recalling what you may not wish to remember; but I may at least ask you to bring to mind a certain evening--a certain night--when we walked together in the garden at Tilney.”

”I do not think I am likely to forget it, sir; some anonymous slanderer has made it the pretext of a most insolent calumny. I do not, I need not say, connect you in any way with this base scandal; but it is enough to make the incident the reverse of a pleasant memory.”

”And yet it was the happiest of my whole life.”

”It is unfortunate, sir, that we should look back to an event with feelings so diametrically opposite.”

Maitland gave no heed to the irony of her tone, but went on: ”If I was conscious of my own unworthiness, I had certain things in my favor which served to give me courage,--not the least of these was your brother's friends.h.i.+p.”

”Mark was always proud of being Mr. Maitland's friend,” said she, rather touched by this haughty man's humility.

”That friends.h.i.+p became very precious to me when I knew his sister.

Indeed, from that hour I loved him as a brother.”

”Forgive me, sir, if I interrupt you. At the time to which you allude we would seem to have been living in a perfect realm of misconceptions.

Surely it is not necessary to revive them; surely, now that we have awoke, we need not take up the clew of a dream to a.s.sist our reflections.”

”What may be the misconceptions you refer to?” said he, with a voice much shaken and agitated.

”One was, it would appear, that Mr. Maitland made me certain professions. Another, that he was--that he had--that is, that he held--I cannot say it, sir; and I beg you to spare me what a rash temper might possibly provoke me to utter.”

”Say all that you will; I loved you, Alice.”

”You will force me to leave you, sir, if you thus forget yourself.”

”I loved you, and I love you still. Do not go, I beg, I implore you.

As the proof of how I love you, I declare that I know all that you have heard of me, all that you have said of me,--every harsh and cruel word.

Ay, Alice, I have read them as your hand traced them, and through all, I love you.”

”I will not stoop to ask how, sir; but I will say that the avowal has not raised you in my estimation.”

”If I have not your love, I will never ask for your esteem; I wanted your affection as a man wants that which would make his life a reality.

I could have worked for you; I could have braved scores of things I have ever shrunk from; and I had a right to it.”