Part 31 (2/2)
When she entered the library Earl Selloyd had hastened to meet her with exaggerated courtesy, and dragged forward a big arm-chair, begging her to be seated. Gwen poised herself on the arm of it, and swung one foot.
”Very foolish, indeed!” she repeated, eyeing gravely the thin, nervous, foolish-looking young man, who, nevertheless, represented one of the oldest and most ill.u.s.trious families of England.
”I hope you don't mean that,” he said. ”Indeed, Miss Carew, it is only your happiness I have at heart.”
”And a little your own, I hope,” with a faint smile. Then she went on before he could interrupt: ”You know I have the name for being very original, Lord Selloyd, and I'm going to be original now. You've evidently come here this evening to propose to me, and I'm not going to let you propose. I'm not the sort of girl who likes to count up her conquests and tell all the other girls. All I ask of things generally just now is, let me have a good time, and I don't care whether I get any proposal or not. Of course I think it is awfully good of you to want to give me your name and t.i.tle and all that, but since I can't accept them, we won't say any more about it.”
”But my dear Miss Carew,” he implored, ”your mother led me to suppose that she--”
”That doesn't count,” interrupted Gwen. ”To be very candid, you know as well as I do that no mother can help fancying a coronet for her daughter, and it's just the same the world over. Now, although I'm supposed to be very up to date, I'm really positively antique about some things, and one of them is the question of matrimony. I'm so old-fas.h.i.+oned that I mean to marry for love, even if I marry a plain Mr n.o.body. There! now you must see that it is a mistake to continue this interview.”
His lords.h.i.+p fidgeted nervously. ”But couldn't you?” he began--”couldn't you--don't you think--?”
”I'm afraid not,” Gwen said kindly, helping him out. ”Isn't there anything I could do?” pleadingly. ”Perhaps if you would tell me what you want in a man--?”
Gwen felt inclined to say it was a _man_, just that, pure and simple: that she wanted, but she was naturally a kind hearted girl and had no desire to hurt his feelings.
”It's no use,” she said frankly. ”Let's part friends, and you'll soon find someone you can care for heaps more than me, who won't worry the life out of you a bit like I should have done.”
His lords.h.i.+p shook his head sorrowfully, and looked very woebegone.
”No,” he said, ”I shall never love another, and I shall never be happy again. I might as well go and shoot myself at once.”
Gwen felt desperately inclined to laugh, but managed to keep her face sufficiently to say:
”Oh no, I wouldn't do that. When you've got a fine estate, and a t.i.tle, and all that sort of thing, it's a pity to clear out and let someone else s.n.a.t.c.h it up.”
His lords.h.i.+p seemed rather struck with the idea, for he said no more about shooting as he dragged himself to the door. He did, however, contrive to look the picture of wretchedness, though somehow not in a manner that appealed to Gwen's heart, and when the door finally closed behind him she hid her face in her hands a moment as if she would hide her smile even from herself. She had to pause to straighten her face again before she reappeared in the drawing-room, though Lawrence read everything directly in her eyes.
”Well,” said her mother, ”have you sent him away?”
”I didn't send him, mummie--he went,” she answered coaxingly.
”He wouldn't have gone if you had answered him sensibly.”
”Answered him about what?”
”Why, his proposal, of course.”
”But he didn't propose.”
”Didn't propose!” dropping her work on her knee, and lifting her eyes in astonishment.
”No, mummie. I advised him not to.”
Lawrence's rare smile spread over his face.
”My dear, what do you mean?” said Mrs Carew with a helpless look.
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