Part 15 (1/2)
But that did not trouble him. He had been strong in his resentment then; he had judged her, and disapproved of her in his calm judicial way, and there was an end of it.
”I've had a nasty touch of low-fever, that is all.”
”And you never let us know!”
”No. Why should I? You had trouble enough with me!”
”Trouble!” the girl says pa.s.sionately; and at the sudden change in her voice he raises his head. ”Do you forget it was through my fault you were suffering--that if I had not acted so foolishly that night you would not have been shot? Oh, I think of it sometimes till it almost turns my brain!”
It is an exquisite April day, the air is keen and sweet here in the heart of the old-fas.h.i.+oned garden, full of the odor of budding leaves and freshly-turned earth, mingled with the perfume of the great lilac-trees, which are one ma.s.s of bloom.
To Honor's Celtic beauty-loving nature such a day as this is full of delights; it soothes her.
”If you have forgotten me,” she says more calmly, ”for all the pain I brought upon you, I have never forgiven myself.”
”I don't know that I have forgiven you,” he says, looking at her almost sternly. ”There are things a man like me finds it hard to forgive; but as for that stray bullet--it was a mere accident--I have never blamed you in the least for that.”
”Then what else had you to forgive me for?”
He laughs, and moves a little way from her--a restless black figure among all his morning freshness.
”Oh, we won't talk of it!” he says, almost awkwardly. ”I was a fool to come back, though, and, by Jove, I ought to have known it!”
”No, you are not a fool,” the girl answers bitterly; ”but you are certainly the worst-tempered man I ever met.”
”Thank you for your good opinion!”
”You are welcome; it's an honest opinion so far as it goes. And now we had better go in; you will want something to eat, and you are tired, I dare say.”
”Yes, I am tired of a good many things,” he replies, with a short laugh.
They walk together back to the house, between the beds of early wall-flowers and the Lent lilies nodding in the suns.h.i.+ne.
”I suppose I ought to congratulate you, Honor.”
”Congratulate me,” the girl repeats, looking at him with some surprise; then a sudden thought comes to her, and she smiles; but he does not see the smile.
”Yes--on your engagement to this fellow from Dublin. He is very rich, I hear.”
”Immensely rich,” the girl agrees calmly. ”And then he is clever too; he writes--I'm sure I don't know what he writes; but he is literary.”
”I'm glad you think so highly of him, and I hope you will be happy,” he says after a pause.
”Thanks. I could do with a little happiness for a change, you know!