Part 62 (1/2)
”Oh, so that is what you have been doing in London, is it?” says Lilian, after a short pause that makes her words still more impressive. ”I certainly did think you weren't in a very great hurry to return, and that you looked rather blighted when you did come. I doubt you have been dancing the 'Geliebt und verloren' waltzes once too often. Did she refuse you?”
”I love you, Lilian, and only you,” returns he, reproachfully. ”No, do not turn from me; let me plead my cause once more. Darling, I have indeed tried to live without you, and have failed; if you reject me again you will drive me to destruction. Lilian, be merciful; say something kind to me.”
”You promised me,” says Lilian, nervously, moving away from him, ”never to speak on this subject again. Oh, why is it that some people will insist on falling in love with other people? There is something so stupid about it. Now, _I_ never fall in love; why cannot you follow my good example?”
”I am not bloodless, or----”
”Neither am I,” holding up her pretty hand between her and the fire, so that the rich blood shows through the closed fingers of it. ”But I have common sense, the one thing you lack.”
”_You_ are the one thing I lack,” possessing himself of her hand and kissing it fatuously. ”Without you I lack everything. Beloved, must I learn to look upon you as my curse? Give me, I entreat you, one little word of encouragement, if only one; I starve for want of it. If you only knew how I have clung for months, and am still clinging, to the barest shadow of a hope, you would think twice before you destroyed that one faint gleam of happiness.”
”This is dreadful,” says Lilian, piteously, the ready tears gathering in her eyes. ”Would you marry a woman who does not love you?”
”I would,”--eagerly,--”when that woman a.s.sures me she does not love another, and I have your word for that.”
Lilian winces. Then, trying to recover her spirits:
”'What one suffers for one's country--_men_!'” she misquotes, with an affectation of lightness. ”Archie, billiards have a demoralizing effect upon you. I shan't play with you again.”
”I don't want to bribe you,” says Chesney, turning a little pale, and declining to notice her interruption; ”I should be sorry to think I could do so; but I have ten thousand a year, and if you will marry me you shall have a thousand a year pin-money, and five thousand if you survive me.”
”It would spoil my entire life fearing I shouldn't survive you,” says Miss Chesney, who, in spite of her nervousness, or because of it, is longing to laugh.
”You will, you need not be afraid of that.”
”It sounds dazzling,” murmurs Lilian, ”more especially when you give me your word you will die first; but still I think it downright shabby you don't offer me the whole ten.”
”So I will!”--eagerly--”if----”
”Nonsense, Archie,” hastily: ”don't be absurd. Cannot you see I am only in jest? I am not going to marry any one, as I told you before. Come now,”--anxiously,--”don't look so dismal. You know I am very, _very_ fond of you, but after all one cannot marry every one one is fond of.”
”I suppose not,” gloomily.
”Then do try to look a little pleasanter. They will all notice your depression when we return to them.”
”I don't care,” with increasing gloom.
”But I do. Archie, look here, dear,”--taking the high and moral tone,--”do you think it is right of you to go on like this, just as if----”
”I don't care a hang what is right, or what is wrong,” says Mr. Chesney, with considerable vehemence. ”I only know you are the only woman I ever really cared for, and you won't have me. Nothing else is of the slightest consequence.”
”I am not the only woman in the world. Time will show you there are others ten times nicer and lovelier.”
”I don't believe it.”
”Because you don't wish to,” angrily. ”In the first place, I am far too small to be lovely.”
”You are tall enough for my fancy.”
”And my mouth is too large,” with growing irritation.