Part 36 (2/2)
”No,--it was not posted, through a cruel blunder. And then I thought--I got to thinking that you didn't care--”
”Oh,” said the girl. ”Could you doubt me?”
”You doubted me,” said Staniford, seizing his advantage. ”I brought the letter with me to prove _my_ truth.” She did not look at him, but she took the letter, and ran it greedily into her pocket. ”It's well I did so, since you don't believe my word.”
”Oh, yes,--yes, I know it,” she said; ”I never doubted it!” Staniford stood bemazed, though he knew enough to take the hands she yielded him; but she suddenly caught them away again, and set them against his breast. ”I was very wrong to suspect you ever; I'm sorry I did; but there's something else. I don't know how to say what I want to say. But it must be said.”
”Is it something disagreeable?” asked Staniford, lightly.
”It's right,” answered Lydia, unsmilingly.
”Oh, well, don't say it!” he pleaded; ”or don't say it now,--not till you've forgiven me for the anxiety I've caused you; not till you've praised me for trying to do what I thought the right thing. You can't imagine how hard it was for one who hasn't the habit!”
”I do praise you for it. There's nothing to forgive _you_; but I can't let you care for me unless I know--unless”--She stopped, and then, ”Mr.
Staniford,” she began firmly, ”since I came here, I've been learning things that I didn't know before. They have changed the whole world to me, and it can never be the same again.”
”I'm sorry for that; but if they haven't changed you, the world may go.”
”No, not if we're to live in it,” answered the girl, with the soberer wisdom women keep at such times. ”It will have to be known how we met.
What will people say? They will laugh.”
”I don't think they will in my presence,” said Staniford, with swelling nostrils. ”They may use their pleasure elsewhere.”
”And I shouldn't care for their laughing, either,” said Lydia. ”But oh, why did you come?”
”Why did I come?”
”Was it because you felt bound by anything that's happened, and you wouldn't let me bear the laugh alone? I'm not afraid for myself. I shall never blame you. You can go perfectly free.”
”But I don't want to go free!”
Lydia looked at him with piercing earnestness. ”Do you think I'm proud?”
she asked.
”Yes, I think you are,” said Staniford, vaguely.
”It isn't for myself that I should be proud with other people. But I would rather die than bring ridicule upon one I--upon you.”
”I can believe that,” said Staniford, devoutly, and patiently reverencing the delay of her scruples.
”And if--and--” Her lips trembled, but she steadied her trembling voice.
”If they laughed at you, and thought of me in a slighting way because--”
Staniford gave a sort of roar of grief and pain to know how her heart must have been wrung before she could come to this. ”You were all so good that you didn't let me think there was anything strange about it--”
”Oh, good heavens! We only did what it was our precious and sacred privilege to do! We were all of one mind about it from the first.
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