Part 26 (2/2)
Daisy pressed her hand dreamily to her forehead. She had never known her sister to show the least partiality to any other man.
”I understand you less than ever,” she faltered.
”Are you so blind?” exclaimed Millicent, with superior wisdom. ”Did you think Mr. Roseleaf had been so closely engaged all this time in my literary work without learning to care for me? I presume you will think I ought to blush, but that is not my way. The strangest thing is that I should have to explain what I thought every one knew.”
Poor little Daisy! She was so crushed by these statements that she did not know what reply to make, which way to turn for consolation.
”He has told you that he loves you?” she managed to articulate.
”He has shown it, at least,” was the answer. ”He had not been here a week before he tried to put his arms around me. I had to let him hold my hand to avoid an absolute quarrel. He is not an ordinary man, Daisy, and does not act like others, but we understand each other. He is waiting for something better in his business prospects, and as I am so busy on my new book I am glad to be left to myself for the present.”
It was the old story. Daisy could not doubt her sister's version of her relations with Mr. Roseleaf. When he called the next time there was a red spot in both her cheeks. He told her with happy eyes that he had at last secured something which made it possible to speak to her father.
He had been offered a position on the Pacific Quarterly, at a good salary, and another periodical had engaged him to write a series of articles.
”They tell me I have no imagination,” he explained, ”but that I do very good work on anything that contains matters of fact. I have some money of my own, but I did not want to tell your father I was an idle fellow, without brains enough to make myself useful in the world. The novel on which I base such great hopes might not seem to him worth considering seriously, you know. So I can go with a better account of myself, and I am going this very week.”
The bright light that shone from the face at which she looked made her waver for a moment, but she found strength to answer that he must not speak to Mr. Fern about her--now, or at any other time. She did not want to marry, or to be engaged. She wanted to live with her father, and take care of him, and she wanted nothing else.
”Millie will marry,” she added, as a parting thrust, meant to be very direct and bitter. ”One of us ought to stay with papa.”
For a while he was too overwhelmed by her changed att.i.tude to make a sensible reply. When it dawned on him that she meant what she said, he appealed to her to take it back. He could not bear the thought of giving her up, or even of waiting much longer for the fulfillment of his hopes.
He spoke in the most pa.s.sionate tone, and his whole being seemed wrought up by his earnestness. The girl was constantly thinking, however, that this was the same way he had addressed Millicent, and that there was no trust to be placed in him.
”Calm yourself,” she said, when he grew violent. ”I have tried to be honest with you. I have thought of this matter a great deal. You will admit that it is of some importance to me.”
”To you!” he echoed. ”Yes, and to me! I do not care whether I live or die, if I am to lose you!”
She wanted to ask him if he had told Millie the same thing, but she could not without making an explanation she did not like to give.
”There are others,” was all she said. ”Others, who will make you happier, and be better fitted for you--in your career as a writer.”
He never thought her allusion had reference to any particular person, and he answered that there was no one, there never could be any one, for him, but her. He had never loved before, he never should love again. And she listened, thinking what a capacity for falsehood and tragic acting he had developed.
After two hours of this most disagreeable scene, Roseleaf left the house, moody and despondent. It would have taken little at that moment to make him throw himself into the bosom of the Hudson, or send a bullet through his brain.
On the way to the station he met Mr. Weil, who could not help asking what was the matter.
”Oh, it's all up!” he answered. ”She has refused me, and I am going to the devil as quick as I can.”
”What are you talking about?” exclaimed the other, staring at him. ”You don't mean--Daisy!”
”That's just what I mean. I went there to tell her of my good luck, and to say I was going to ask her father's consent; and she met me as cold as an iceberg, and said she had decided not to marry. So I'm going back to town without a single reason left for living.”
Mr. Weil stood silent and nonplussed for a few seconds. Then a bright idea came into his head.
”Look here, Mr. Impetuousness,” said he. ”I know this can be arranged, and I'm going to see that it's done. My G.o.d, the same thing happens in half the love affairs the universe over! Give me a few days to straighten it out. Go home and go to work, and I'll fix this, I promise you.”
It took some time to persuade Roseleaf to follow this advice, but he yielded at last. Weil pleaded his warm friends.h.i.+p, begged the young man to do what he asked if only to please him, and finally succeeded. A few minutes later Archie had secured an audience with Daisy.
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