Part 61 (1/2)
”I hope so.”
”I hate it from everybody. I can't tell the servants not to do it.
They wouldn't understand me. But from you! It seems always as though you were laughing at me.”
”Laugh at you!”
”You may if you like it. What is it you may not do with me? If it were really a joke, if you were quizzing, I shouldn't mind it.” He held her hand the whole time, and she did not attempt to withdraw it.
What did her hand signify? If she could only so manage with him on that day that he should be satisfied to be happy, and not trouble her with any request. ”Marion,” he said, drawing her towards him.
”Sit down, my lord. Well. I won't. You shan't be called my lord to-day, because I am so happy to see you;--because you have had so great an escape.”
”But I didn't have any escape.”
If only she could keep him in this way! If he would only talk to her about anything but his pa.s.sion! ”It seemed to me so, of course.
Father was broken-hearted about it. He was as bad as I. Think of father going down without his tea to Hendon Hall, and driving the poor people there all out of their wits.”
”Everybody was out of his wits.”
”I was,” she said, bobbing her head at him. She was just so far from him, she thought, as to be safe from any impetuous movement. ”And Hannah was nearly as bad.” Hannah was the old woman. ”You may imagine we had a wretched night of it.”
”And all about nothing,” said he, falling into her mood in the moment. ”But think of poor Walker.”
”Yes, indeed! I suppose he has friends, too, who loved him, as--as some people love you. But he is not going to die?”
”I hope not. Who is that young woman opposite who rushed out to me in the street? She says she brought you the news first.”
”Miss Demijohn.”
”Is she a friend of yours?”
”No,” said Marion, blus.h.i.+ng as she spoke the word very firmly.
”I am rather glad of that, because I didn't fall in love with her.
She introduced me to ever so many of the neighbours. The landlady of the public-house was one, I think.”
”I am afraid they have offended you among them.”
”Not in the least. I never take offence except when I think people mean it. But now, Marion, say one word to me.”
”I have said many words. Have I not said nice words?”
”Every word out of your mouth is like music to me. But there is one word which I am dying to hear.”
”What word?” she said. She knew that she should not have asked the question, but it was so necessary for her to put off the evil if it were only for a moment.
”It is whatever word you may choose to use when you speak to me as my wife. My mother used to call me John; the children call me Jack; my friends call me Hampstead. Invent something sweet for yourself.
I always call you Marion because I love the sound so dearly.”