A Woman Perfected. Marsh Richard
should think we might; we might start on three hundred; I should like to have the chance."
"I'd be willing. And how much would it cost to furnish a house?"
"I've a few sticks in those rooms of mine."
"I know; I also know what kind of sticks they are-we shouldn't want them."
"There at last we are agreed. I suppose that to furnish the kind of house we should want to start with would make a hole in a couple of hundred-you probably know more about that sort of thing than I do. But, my dear Elaine, what is the use of our playing at fairy tales? You haven't five shillings in the world, and I've only just enough to take me clear away, and to keep the breath in my body while I have one look round."
Again there was an interval of silence, which was broken by her in a scarcely audible whisper.
"That-that was what I was trying to explain; what-I said to you yesterday was-to prove you."
"What particular thing did you say? I haven't a notion what you mean."
"Every girl likes to be-wooed for herself alone."
"Of course she does, and it's dead certain you'll never be wooed for anything but your own sweet self; I've known you, and all about you, long enough to be aware that you're no heiress."
"That's-that's where you're wrong."
"Wrong! Elaine, where's the joke?"
"I-I am an heiress; of course, in a very moderate way."
"What do you call an heiress? when yesterday you told me that you didn't possess five shillings!"
"That was said to try you."
Raising her eyes she looked him boldly in the face; there in the bright moonlight they could see each other almost as clearly as if it had been high noon.
"To try me? You're beyond me altogether; Elaine, are you pulling my leg?"
"I have about two thousand pounds."
"Two thousand pounds! Great Scott! where did you get it from? I didn't know there was so much money in all your family."
"There, again, you were mistaken. I got it from an aunt who died-not long ago."
"When did she die?"
"Oh, about six months ago."
"What was her name?"
"The same as mine-Harding."
"Was she an aunt by marriage?"
"She was my father's sister."
"A spinster? But I thought you told me that none of your father's relatives had two pennies to rub together."
"So I thought; but I was wrong. At any rate, when she died she left me about two thousand pounds."
"You've kept it pretty dark."
He was staring at her as if altogether amazed; she smiled at him as if amused by his surprise.
"I have; I've told nobody-not even Nora."
"Doesn't Miss Lindsay know?"
"She doesn't. Nobody knows-except you; and I shall be obliged by your respecting my confidence."
"I'll respect your confidence; but-of all the queer starts! What fibs you've told!"
"I know I've told some; in a position like mine, one had to. But I'd made up my mind that you shouldn't know I had money, and-you didn't know."
"I certainly did not; I scarcely realize it now; I wonder if you're joking."
"No, I'm not joking."
She shook her pretty head, with a grave little smile. Her face looked white in the moonshine.
"Can you touch the capital? Is it in the hands of trustees? Or do you only have the income?"
"It is not in the hands of trustees; it is entirely at my own disposal; I can get it when I want."
"All of it?"
"All of it."
He drew a long breath, as if moved by some new and sudden strength of feeling.
"Can you-can you get two hundred pounds before next Tuesday?"
"I can, and I will-if you want it. You are sure you want it?"
"Elaine, if-if you will I'll-I'll never forget it."
"You shall have it on Monday if you like." He covered his face with his hands, seeming to be shaken by the stress of a great emotion. She drew closer to him, as if frightened; her voice trembled. "Herbert, what-what is wrong?"
Uncovering his face, clenching his fists, he stared straight in front of him, resolution in his eyes.
"Nothing now-nothing! – and there never shall be anything again! – thank-God. Thank God! Considering what sort of mess it was that I was in, I didn't dare to ask God to help me out of it; but He's done it without my asking Him. Elaine, upon my word I believe it's true that God moves in a mysterious way." Elaine, hiding her face against his shoulder, burst into tears, which surprised him more than anything which had gone before. She was not a girl who cries easily, yet now she was shaken by her sobs. Putting his arms about her, he strove to comfort her, showering on her endearing epithets. "My sweet, my dear, my darling, what troubles you? Don't you-don't you want me to have the money? You have only to say so; I shan't mind."
"Of course I want you to have it! I only want it for you! – you know I only want it for you! Herbert, are you-are you sure you love me? Tell me-tell me quite truly."
"I am as sure as that there is the moon above us; and now I dare to tell you so; no man ever loved a woman better than I love you. I know I am unworthy; I know how, in all essentials, you are infinitely above me-"
"I'm not-I'm not!"
"But it shall be my constant endeavour to raise myself to your level-"
"Don't! – you don't know what you're saying! Don't!"
"I do know what I'm saying, and I mean it; if God gives me strength I hope, before I've finished, to prove myself worthy of the wife I've won. You hear? Then make a note of it."
Then there were divers passages.
"Herbert, I want you to go to Mr. Dawson tomorrow, and arrange about that partnership. I'll find the fifteen hundred pounds."
"Sweetheart, you've turned all my sorrow into joy."
"And-this, sir, is supposed to be spoken in the faintest whisper-I-I think I'd like to be married pretty soon."
"As soon as it is legally possible, madam, you shall be married, if you choose to say the word."
"I don't want it in quite such a hurry as that; but-you know what I mean! – I don't want to have to wait a horrid year." Presently she asked, "Do you know that Mr. Lindsay's very ill?"
"I heard it as I came along."
"I think he's dying. I suppose Nora'll be very rich if he does."
"Let's hope that he'll not die."
"Not die?"
She looked at him with such a strange expression on her face that he smiled.
"Why, girlie, you don't want the father to die to make the daughter rich!"
"No; of course not."
But, afterwards, she was not the same; it was as if he had struck some jarring note. When they parted she went round to the back of the house, along the terrace, towards the study window, which still stood open. She paused upon the threshold.
"Suppose he were not to die? suppose he doesn't?"
The problem the supposition presented to her mind seemed to cause her no slight disturbance; still she passed into the room.
Which explains why, when Nora said she doubted if Mr. Nash was ever really interested in anybody but himself, Elaine Harding had good cause to wonder if the thing was true.</[>
CHAPTER V
PETER