Part 87 (1/2)
”But may I?”
”If it please you, you may.” And the words, though whispered very low, fell clearly upon his ear.
”Dearest Annie!”
”But I did not say you might call me that.”
”But you are.”
”Am I?”
”Dearest--all but she. Will that make you angry with me?”
”No, not angry; but--”
”But what?”
She looked up at him, pouting with her lip. There was a half-smile on her mouth, and half a tear in her eyes; and her shoulder leant against him, and her heart palpitated. She had never been so beautiful, never so attractive.
”But what--? What would you say, Annie?”
”I would say this.--But I know you will think me very bold.”
”I shall not think you too bold if you will say the truth.”
”Then I would say this--that if I loved a man, I could love him quite as fondly as she loved you.”
”Could you, Annie?”
”I could. But he should not drive me from him, as you say you did her; never--never--never. He might kill me if he would; but if I once had told him that I loved him, I would never leave him afterwards.”
”Tell me so, Annie.”
”No, Mr. Bertram. We have not known each other long enough.” And now she took her hand from his arm, and let it drop by her side.
”Tell me so, dear Annie,” he repeated; and he tried to regain her hand.
”There is the luncheon-bell; and since Mr. Wilkinson won't go to Mrs.
Price, I must do so.”
”Shall I go?” said he.
”Do; I will go down by myself.”
”But you love me, Annie?--say that you love me.”
”Nonsense. Here is that fellow, Biffin. Do you go for Mrs.
Price--leave me to myself.”
”Don't go down stairs with him.”