Part 42 (2/2)

”I believe you would take anybody's part against me,” Lady Ball had said, and then as a matter of course she had been very cross. The whole of that day was terrible to Miss Mackenzie, and she resolved that nothing said by her cousin should induce her to postpone her departure for another day.

In order to insure this by a few minutes' private conversation with him, and also with the view of escaping for some short time from the house, she walked down to the station in the evening to meet her cousin. The train by which he arrived reached Twickenham at five o'clock, and the walk occupied about twenty minutes. She met him just as he was coming out of the station gate, and at once told him that she had come there for the sake of walking back with him and talking to him. He thanked her, and said that he was very glad to meet her.

He also wanted to speak to her very particularly. Would she take his arm?

She took his arm, and then began with a quick tremulous voice to tell him of her sufferings at the house. She threw no blame on her aunt that she could avoid, but declared it to be natural that under such circ.u.mstances as those now existing her prolonged sojourn at her aunt's house should be unpleasant to both of them. In answer to all this, John Ball said nothing, but once or twice lifted up his left hand so as to establish Margaret's arm more firmly on his own. She hardly noticed the motion, but yet she was aware that it was intended for kindness, and then she broke forth with a rapid voice as to her plan about the hospital. ”I think we can manage better than that, at any rate,” said he, stopping her in the path when this proposal met his ear. But she went on to declare that she would like it, that she was strong and qualified for such work, that it would satisfy her aspirations, and be fit for her. And then, after that, she declared that nothing should induce her to undertake the kind of life that had been suggested by her aunt. ”I quite agree with you there,” said he; ”quite. I hate tabbies as much as you do.”

They had now come to a little gate, of which John Ball kept a key, and which led into the grounds belonging to the Cedars. The grounds were rather large, and the path through them extended for half a mile, but the land was let off to a grazier. When inside the wall, however, they were private; and Mr Ball, as soon as he had locked the gate behind him, stopped her in the dark path, and took both her hands in his. The gloom of the evening had now come round them, and the thick trees which formed the belt of the place, joined to the high wall, excluded from them nearly all what light remained.

”And now,” said he, ”I will tell you my plan.”

”What plan?” said she; but her voice was very low.

”I proposed it once before, but you would not have it then.”

When she heard this, she at once drew both her hands from him, and stood before him in an agony of doubt. Even in the gloom, the trees were going round her, and everything, even her thoughts, were obscure and misty.

”Margaret,” said he, ”you shall be my wife, and the mother of my children, and I will love you as I loved Rachel before. I loved you when I asked you at Christmas, but I did not love you then as I love you now.”

She still stood before him, but answered him not a word. How often since the tidings of her loss had reached her had the idea of such a meeting as this come before her! how often had she seemed to listen to such words as those he now spoke to her! Not that she had expected it, or hoped for it, or even thought of it as being in truth possible; but her imagination had been at work, during the long hours of the night, and the romance of the thing had filled her mind, and the poetry of it had been beautiful to her. She had known--she had told herself that she knew--that no man would so sacrifice himself; certainly no such man as John Ball, with all his children and his weary love of money! But now the poetry had come to be fact, and the romance had turned itself into reality, and the picture formed by her imagination had become a living truth. The very words of which she had dreamed had been spoken to her.

”Shall it be so, my dear?” he said, again taking one of her hands.

”You want to be a nurse; will you be my nurse? Nay; I will not ask, but it shall be so. They say that the lovers who demand are ever the most successful. I make my demand. Tell me, Margaret, will you obey me?”

He had walked on now, but in order that his time might be sufficient, he led her away from the house. She was following him, hardly knowing whither she was going.

”Susanna,” said he, ”shall come and live with the others; one more will make no difference.”

”And my aunt?” said Margaret.

It was the first word she had spoken since the gate had been locked behind her, and this word was spoken in a whisper.

”I hope my mother may feel that such a marriage will best conduce to my happiness; but, Margaret, nothing that my mother can say will change me. You and I have known something of each other now. Of you, from the way in which things have gone, I have learned much. Few men, I take it, see so much of their future wives as I have seen of you.

If you can love me as your husband, say so at once honestly, and then leave the rest to me.”

”I will,” she said, again whispering; and then she clung to his hand, and for a minute or two he had his arm round her waist. Then he took her, and kissed her lips, and told her that he would take care of her, and watch for her, and keep her, if possible, from trouble.

Ah, me, how many years had rolled by since last she had been kissed in that way! Once, and once only, had Harry Handc.o.c.k so far presumed, and so far succeeded. And now, after a dozen years or more, that game had begun again with her! She had boxed Harry Handc.o.c.k's ears when he had kissed her; but now, from her lover of to-day, she submitted to the ceremony very tamely.

”Oh, John,” she said, ”how am I to thank you?” But the thanks were tendered for the promise of his care, and not for the kiss.

I think there was but little more said between them before they reached the door-step. When there, Mr Ball, speaking already with something of marital authority, gave her his instructions.

”I shall tell my mother this evening,” he said, ”as I hate mysteries; and I shall tell my father also. Of course there may be something disagreeable said before we all shake down happily in our places, but I shall look to you, Margaret, to be firm.”

”I shall be firm,” she said, ”if you are.”

”I shall be firm,” was the reply; and then they went into the house.

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