FullReads

For a long moment he stood looking at her. She knew just the pitifulness that was in his expression, but she could not raise her eyes to his. She tried to summon her pride, her dignity, to her support. But she had no pride, no dignity, left. She had surrendered them long ago.

“I have something to say to you,” he said, in a tone full of gentleness, just as she had known he would speak. “It is something I have put off saying as long as possible, and perhaps you have already guessed what it is.”

Maud felt the blood leaving her face; the room spun around; she was afraid she should faint. It only remained that she should break down now to complete her humiliation before him, and apparently she was going to do just that.

“We have had a most delightful time the past year,” he went on; “that is, at least I have. I don’t believe the friendship of a girl was ever so much to a man as yours has been to me. I doubt if there ever was just such a friendship as ours has been, anyway. I shall always look back on it as the rarest and most charming passage in my life. But I have seen for some time that we could not go on much longer on the present footing, and tonight it has come over me that we can’t go on even another day. Maud, I can’t play at being friends with you one hour more. I love you. Do you care for me still? Will you be my wife?”

When it is remembered that up to his last words she had been desperately bracing herself against an announcement of a most opposite nature, it will not seem strange that for a moment Maud had difficulty in realizing just what had happened. She looked at him as if dazed, and with an instinct of bewilderment drew back a little as he would have clasped her. “I thought,” she stammered–“I thought–I”–

He misconstrued her hesitation. His eyes darkened and his voice was sharpened with a sudden fear as he exclaimed, “I know it was a long time ago you told me that. Perhaps you don’t feel the same way now. Don’t tell me, Maud, that you don’t care for me any longer, now that I have learned I can’t do without you.”

A look of wondering happiness, scarcely able even yet to believe in its own reality, had succeeded the bewildered incredulity in her face.

“O Arthur!” she cried. “Do you really mean it? Are you sure it is not out of pity that you say this? Do you love me after all? Would you really like me a little to be your wife?”

“If you are not my wife, I shall never have one,” he replied. “You have spoiled all other women for me.”

Then she let him take her in his arms, and as his lips touched hers for the first time he faintly wondered if it were possible he had ever dreamed of any other woman but Maud Elliott as his wife. After she had laughed and cried awhile, she said:

“How was it that you never let me see you cared for me? You never showed it.”

“I tried not to,” he replied; “and I would not have shown it to-night, if I could have helped it. I tried to get away without betraying my secret, but I could not.” Then he told her that when he found he had fallen in love with her, he was almost angry with himself. He was so proud of their friendship that a mere love affair seemed cheap and common beside it. Any girl would do to fall in love with; but there was not, he was sure, another in America capable of bearing her part in such a rare and delicate companionship as theirs. He was determined to keep up their noble game of friendship as long as might be.

Afterward, during the evening, he boasted himself to her not a little of the self-control he had shown in hiding his passion so long, a feat the merit of which perhaps she did not adequately appreciate.

“Many a time in the last month or two when you have been saying good-by to me of an evening, with your hand in mine, the temptation has been almost more than I could withstand to seize you in my arms. It was all the harder, you see, because I fancied you would not be very angry if I did. In fact, you once gave me to understand as much in pretty plain language, if I remember rightly. Possibly you may recall the conversation. You took the leading part in it, I believe.”

Maud had bent her head so low that he could not see her face. It was very cruel in him, but he deliberately took her chin in his hands, and gently but firmly turned her face up to his. Then, as he kissed the shamed eyes and furiously blushing cheeks, he dropped the tone of banter and said, with moist eyes, in a voice of solemn tenderness:–

“My brave darling, with all my life I will thank you for the words you spoke that night. But for them I might have missed the wife God meant for me.”