Part 50 (1/2)

Great tears gathered in her eyes, and fell on her clasped hands. Why, or why, did he unman her! He was playing with the twig again, and pretending not to notice. ”Isn't that so?” he asked.

She caught her breath and steadied her voice with an effort.

”I have been very fortunate,” she said. ”I might have had to go right away from everybody as a nursery governess, instead of having so many friends, and such a nice post, and plenty of liberty.”

”But it is still London, isn't it? And after all, even friends are hardly to you what the mountains, and the loch, and the country life were. Be honest, Paddy,” suddenly looking into her face. ”Don't you just hate to have to go away and leave it all again?--don't you just hate it like the devil?”

She threw back her head with a sudden jerk, as if from some unendurable thought.

”Oh, yes--yes,” she breathed, ”like the devil, there is no other word.

But what of it? I am going--I must go--I am not the only one who has had to give up a country home. Why do you make it harder for me? Why do you remind me of it at all?”

He leaned toward her, and she felt his eyes looking through into her soul. ”I remind you, because I don't want you to go. Do you think it doesn't hurt me too--_now_? I, with all that I have--you with nothing-- not even your own special chum since the General died.”

She drew her hand across her eyes hurriedly.

”And it isn't as if you were obliged to go.” He was leaning nearer-- nearer. ”Paddy, dear little woman, don't go. Give it all up and stay here with me.”

”No, no. It is impossible. Please leave off. Why won't you understand?” and she wrung her hands together.

”It is _not_ impossible,” resolutely, ”and it must be. It has got to be, Paddy. It is you who won't understand.” Then he ran on whimsically, giving her time to collect herself: ”Good Lord! it seems only the other day I was carrying you round on my shoulder, when I came home from Eton for the holidays. I remember I thought, you were the ugliest little creature I had ever set eyes on. You were so ugly, you fascinated; I couldn't take my eyes off you. But even then you had a way with you. Every one always did exactly as you wanted. If they didn't, you got into no end of a fury, and hit out right and left. It was awful sport making you wild, Paddy. Sometimes, when I've got hold of you, you've kicked at me as hard as you could with your fat little legs, but I always enjoyed the fun of it. I didn't think I'd ever want to marry you, though,” with a whimsical smile; ”it would have seemed too much like inviting a hurricane to one's fireside. It's quite the very last thing that would ever have entered my head, until--until--” he paused. ”I don't know when it began, Paddy, but now I want nothing else in heaven or earth.”

”Please don't go on,” she managed to say; ”please don't.”

”Ah, but I want to; and after all it needn't hurt you. It's so good to have you all alone like this and tell you about it. Ever since the night on the mountain, I've been talking and smiling in my usual inane fas.h.i.+on, and all the time there was a seething volcano underneath. It hasn't been a pleasant two days; I wouldn't care about having them over again. Hour after hour I have longed to start off to the Parsonage; sometimes I have got as far as the lodge. But I felt I ought to give you time to recover thoroughly, and so I forced myself to turn back.

When I awoke this morning I knew I should come to day. I had reached the utmost limit of my patience. Did you expect me? Did you, perhaps, hope I should come to-day!” She had put her hands up to her face, and now he tried to draw one of them away. ”Why won't you look at me, Paddy! Why won't you let me see your face! Come, be your own bright self again. Chuck all this cursed nonsense about being impossible.

Don't you know that my arms are aching for you? Do you hear, Paddy!--_aching_ for you--and you sit there so silent and distant. Are you thinking of London and that beastly dispensary! Why, it's all done with, little woman; your home is going to be here in the future. Mourne Lodge is yours, and the horses are yours, and the boats, and the shooting, and everything. Ah! I'll make you so happy--”

She got up swiftly, suddenly, and thrust her hands out before her, as if warding off something. Her face was deathly white, and she looked only at the loch.

”Oh, stop! stop! Don't you realise it is _impossible_?” He changed colour visibly.

”Perhaps I have been too sudden after all,” he said. ”Perhaps by and by--”

”No, _newer_,” and she mustered all her powers for the final word.

He gave a queer little laugh.

”'Never' is a long time,” with a touch of the old cynical manner.

”I mean it,” resolutely.

”You mean you prefer London--and the dispensary--and the loneliness to Mourne Lodge, and the loch, and the mountains?”

She was silent.

”Is that what you mean, Paddy!”

She tried to evade the question, but he would not let her. He stood up close to her, his face a little stern, his lips rigid. ”Look at me, Paddy,” in a tone of command.