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Page 26
"No," she said in a quick, startled voice, looking up at him in a scared
way.
He hastened to reassure her, and say that he had not seriously thought of
it, but he noticed that during the rest of the evening she cast furtive
glances of apprehension at him, as if suspicious that he had some plot
against her. She had fled from home because she could not bear her
mother's eyes.
Meanwhile he was becoming almost as preoccupied and gloomy as she, and
their dreary interviews grew more dreary than ever, for she was now
scarcely more silent than he. His constant and increasing anxiety, in
addition to the duties of a responsible business position, began to tell
on his health. The owner of the manufactory of which he was
superintendent, called him into his office one day, and told him he was
working too hard, and must take a little vacation. But be declined. Soon
after a physician whom he knew buttonholed him on the street, and managed
to get in some shrewd questions about his health. Henry owned he did not
sleep much nights. The doctor said he must take a vacation, and, this
being declared impossible, forced a box of sleeping powders on him, and
made him promise to try them.
All this talk about his health; as well as his own sensations, set him to
thinking of the desperate position in which Madeline would be left in the
event of his serious sickness or death.
That very day he made up his mind that it would not do to postpone their
marriage any longer. It seemed almost brutal to urge it on her in her
present frame of mind, and yet it was clearly out of the question to
protract the present situation.
The quarter of the city in which he resided was suburban, and he went
home every night by the steam cars. As he sat in the car that evening
waiting for the train to start, two gentlemen in the seat behind fell to
conversing about a new book on mental physiology, embodying the latest
discoveries. They kept up a brisk talk on this subject till Henry left
the car. He could not, however, have repeated a single thing which they
had said. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he had only been dimly
conscious what they were talking about. His ears had taken in their
words, but he had heard as not hearing.
After tea, in the gloaming, he called, as usual, on Madeline. After a few
casual words, he said, gently--
"Madeline, you remember you promised to marry me a few weeks ago. I have
not hurried you, but I want you now. There is no use in waiting any
longer, dear, and I want you."
She was sitting in a low chair, her hands folded in her lap, and as he
spoke her head sank so low upon her breast that he could not see her
face. He was silent for some moments waiting a reply, but she made none.
"I know it was only for my sake you promised," he said again. "I know it
will be nothing to you, and yet I would not press you if I did not think
I could make you happier so. I will give up my business for a. time, and
we will travel and see the world a little."
Still she did not speak, but it was to some extent a reassurance to him
that she showed no agitation.
"Are you willing that we should be married in a few days?" he asked.
She lifted her head slowly, and looked at him steadfastly.
"You are right," she said. "It is useless to keep on this way any
longer."
"You consent, then?" said he, quite encouraged by her quiet air and
apparent willingness.
"Don't press me for an answer to-night," she replied, after a pause,
during which she regarded him with a singular fixity of expression. "Wait
till to-morrow. You shall have an answer to-morrow. You are quite right.
I've been thinking so myself. It is no use to put it off any longer."
He spoke to her once or twice after this, but she was gazing out through
the window into the darkening sky, and did not seem to hear him. He rose
to go, and had already reached the hail, when she called him--
"Come back a moment Henry."
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