Part 37 (1/2)
”No, you'll not die unmarried. You will marry Williams,” said Billy, looking earnestly into her eyes.
”I shall not.”
”If you wish to throw Dic over and marry Williams, you should openly avow it, and not seize this misfortune of Dic's as an excuse.”
”Oh, Billy Little, you don't think me capable of that, do you?” answered Rita, reproachfully.
”Do you give me your word you will not marry Williams?” asked Billy, eagerly.
”Yes, I give you my word I will not marry him, if--if I can help it,”
she answered, and poor Billy collapsed. He took his handkerchief from his pocket to dry the perspiration on his face, although the room was cold, and Rita drew forth her handkerchief to dry her tears.
”Dic loves you, Rita. He is one man out of ten thousand. He is honest, true, and pure-minded. He has sinned, I know; but he has repented. One sin doesn't make a sinner, and repentance is the market price of mercy.
I know a great deal of this world, my girl, and of its men and women, and I tell you Dic is as fine a character as I know. I don't know a man that is his equal. Don't let this one fault condemn him and yourself to wretchedness.”
”I shall not be wretched,” she replied, the picture of woe, ”for I don't--don't care for him. I'm surprised, Billy Little, that I do not, and I think less of myself. There must be something wrong about me. I must be wicked when my--my love can turn so easily to indifference. But I do not care for him. He is nothing to me any more. You may be sure I speak the truth and--and although I am glad to have you here, I don't want you to remain if you continue to speak of--of him.”
The situation certainly was confusing, and Billy, in a revery, resorted to Maxwelton's braes as a brain clarifier. Soon wild thoughts came to his mind, and wilder hopes arose in his bachelor heart. This girl, whom he had loved for, lo, these many years, was now free of heart and hand.
Could it be possible there was hope for him? Pat with this strange thought spoke Rita:--
”You say he is a splendid man, pure and true and honest; but you know, Billy Little, that measured by the standard of your life, he is not. I used to think he was like you, that you had made him like yourself, and I did love him, Billy Little. I did love him. But there is no one like you. You are now my only friend.” Tears came to her eyes, and she leaned toward Billy, gently taking his hand between her soft palms. Tumult caused the poor bachelor heart to lose self-control, and out of its fulness to speak:--
”You would not marry me?” he asked. The words were meant as a question, but fortunately Rita understood them as a mere statement of a patent fact, spoken jestingly, so she answered with a laugh:--
”No, of course not. I could not marry you, Billy Little. But I wish you were young; then, do you know, I would make you propose to me. You should not have been born so soon, Billy Little. But if I can't have you for my husband, I'll have you for my second father, and _you_ shall not desert me.”
Her jest quickly drove the wild hopes out of the bachelor heart, and Billy trembled when he thought of what he had tried to say. He left the house much agitated, and returned to see Miss Tousy. After a consultation with that lady covering an hour, he went to the tavern and took the stage for home.
Next day, in the midst of Dic's struggles for peace, and at a time when he had almost determined to marry Sukey Yates, a letter came from Miss Tousy, asking him to go to see her. While waiting for the stage, Dic exhibited Miss Tousy's letter, and Billy feigned surprise.
Two or three days previous to the writing of Miss Tousy's letter, Rita had told that sympathetic young lady the story of the trouble with Dic.
The confidence was given one afternoon in Miss Tousy's cosey little parlor.
”When is your friend Mr. Bright coming to see you?” asked Miss Tousy.
”You are welcome to meet him here if you cannot receive him at home.”
”He will not come again at all,” answered Rita, closely scanning her hands folded on her lap.
”Why?” asked her friend, in much concern, ”has your mother at last forced you to give him up?”
”No, mother knows nothing of it yet--nothing at all. I simply sent his ring back and don't want to--to see him again. Never.”
”My dear girl, you are crazy,” exclaimed Miss Tousy. ”You don't know what you are doing--unless you have grown fond of Mr. Williams; but I can't believe that is true. No girl would think twice of him when so splendid a fellow as Dic--Mr. Bright--was--”
”No, indeed,” interrupted Rita, ”that can never be true. I would never care for any man as I cared for--for him. But I care for him no longer.
It is all over between--between--it is all over.”
From the hard expression of the girl's face one might easily have supposed she was speaking the truth; there was no trace of emotion.