FullReads

“As your–your servant–your valet?” she panted.

His rough brows drew together. “My what? Good heavens, no! I could only take you in one capacity.”

She started back from his hand. For a moment sheer horror looked out from her eyes. Then, almost in the same instant, they were veiled. She caught her breath, saying no word, only dumbly waiting.

“I could only take you as my wife,” he said, still in that half-bantering, half-embarrassed fashion of his. “Will you come?”

She threw back her head and stared at him. “Marry you! What, really? Really?” she questioned, breathlessly.

“Merely for appearances’ sake,” said Merryon, with grim irony. “The regimental morals are somewhat easily offended, and an outsider like myself can’t be too careful.”

The girl was still staring at him, as though at some novel specimen of humanity that had never before crossed her path. Suddenly she leaned towards him, looking him full and straight in the eyes.

“What would you do if I said ‘Yes’?” she questioned, in a small, tense whisper.

He looked back at her, half-interested, half amused. “Do, urchin? Why, marry you!” he said.

“Really marry me?” she urged. “Not make-believe?”

He stiffened at that. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he demanded, sternly.

She sprang to her feet with a wild, startled movement; then, as he remained seated, paused, looking down at him sideways, half-doubtful, half-confiding. “But you can’t be in earnest!” she said.

“I am in earnest.” He raised his face to her with a certain doggedness, as though challenging her to detect in it aught but honesty. “I may be several kinds of a fool,” he said, “but I am in earnest. I’m no great catch, but I’ll marry you if you’ll have me. I’ll protect you, and I’ll be good to you. I can’t promise to make you happy, of course, but–anyway, I shan’t make you miserable.”

“But–but–” She still stood before him as though hovering on the edge of flight. Her lips were trembling, her whole form quivering and scintillating in the lamplight. She halted on the words as if uncertain how to proceed.

“What is it?” said Merryon.

And then, quite suddenly, his mood softened. He leaned slowly forward.

“You needn’t be afraid of me,” he said. “I’m not a heady youngster. I shan’t gobble you up.”

She laughed at that–a quick, nervous laugh. “And you won’t beat me either? Promise!”

He frowned at her. “Beat you! I?”

She nodded several times, faintly smiling. “Yes, you, Mr. Monster! I’m sure you could.”

He smiled also, somewhat grimly. “You’re wrong, madam. I couldn’t beat a child.”

“Oh, my!” she said, and threw up her arms with a quivering laugh, dropping his coat in a heap on the floor. “How old do you think this child is?” she questioned, glancing down at him in her sidelong, speculative fashion.

He looked at her hard and straight, looked at the slim young body in its sheath of iridescent green that shimmered with every breath she drew, and very suddenly he rose.

She made a spring backwards, but she was too late. He caught and held her.

“Let me go!” she cried, her face crimson.

“But why?” Merryon’s voice fell curt and direct. He held her firmly by the shoulders.

She struggled against him fiercely for a moment, then became suddenly still. “You’re not a brute, are you?” she questioned, breathlessly. “You–you’ll be good to me? You said so!”

He surveyed her grimly. “Yes, I will be good to you,” he said. “But I’m not going to be fooled. Understand? If you marry me, you must play the part. I don’t know how old you are. I don’t greatly care. All I do care about is that you behave yourself as the wife of a man in my position should. You’re old enough to know what that means, I suppose?”

He spoke impressively, but the effect of his words was not quite what he expected. The point of a very red tongue came suddenly from between the red lips, and instantly disappeared.

“That all?” she said. “Oh yes; I think I can do that. I’ll try, anyway. And if you’re not satisfied–well, you’ll have to let me know. See?