LITTLE NOVELS [30]
I hesitated.
"What will he think of me?" I said.
"Sign!" she repeated, "and we will see to that."
I obeyed. She asked for the lawyer's letter. I gave it to her, with the lines which contained the man's vile insinuation folded down, so that only the words above were visible, which proved that I had renounced my legacy, not even knowing whether the person to be benefited was a man or a woman. She took this, with the rough draft of my own letter, and the signed renunciation--and opened the door.
"Pray come back, and tell me about it!" I pleaded.
She smiled, nodded, and went out.
Oh, what a long time passed before I heard the long-expected knock at the door! "Come in," I cried impatiently.
Mrs. Fosdyke had deceived me. Mr. Sax had returned in her place. He closed the door. We two were alone.
He was deadly pale; his eyes, as they rested on me, had a wild startled look. With icy cold fingers he took my hand, and lifted it in silence to his lips. The sight of his agitation encouraged me--I don't to this day know why, unless it appealed in some way to my compassion. I was bold enough to look at him. Still silent, he placed the letters on the table--and then he laid the signed paper beside them. When I saw that, I was bolder still. I spoke first.
"Surely you don't refuse me?" I said.
He answered, "I thank you with my whole heart; I admire you more than words can say. But I can't take it."
"Why not?"
"The fortune is yours," he said gently. "Remember how poor I am, and feel for me if I say no more."
His head sank on his breast. He stretched out one hand, silently imploring me to understand him. I could endure it no longer. I forgot every consideration which a woman, in my position, ought to have remembered. Out came the desperate words, before I could stop them.
"You won't take my gift by itself?" I said.
"No."
"Will you take Me with it?"
That evening, Mrs. Fosdyke indulged her sly sense of humor in a new way. She handed me an almanac.
"After all, my dear," she remarked, "you needn't be ashamed of having spoken first. You have only used the ancient privilege of the sex. This is Leap Year."
MR. COSWAY AND THE LANDLADY.
I.
THE guests would have enjoyed their visit to Sir Peter's country house--but for Mr. Cosway. And to make matters worse, it was not Mr. Cosway but the guests who were to blame. They repeated the old story of Adam and Eve, on a larger scale. The women were the first sinners; and the men were demoralized by the women.
Mr. Cosway's bitterest enemy could not have denied that he was a handsome, well-bred, unassuming man. No mystery of any sort attached to him. He had adopted the Navy as a profession--had grown weary of it after a few years' service--and now lived on the moderate income left to him, after the death of his parents. Out of this unpromising material the lively imaginations of the women built up a romance. The men only noticed that Mr. Cosway was rather silent and thoughtful; that he was not ready with his laugh; and that he had a fancy for taking long walks by himself. Harmless peculiarities, surely? And yet, they excited the curiosity of the women as signs of a mystery in Mr. Cosway's past life, in which some beloved object unknown must have played a chief part.
As a matter of course, the influence of the sex was tried, under every indirect and delicate form of approach, to induce Mr. Cosway to open his heart, and tell the tale of his sorrows. With perfect courtesy, he baffled curiosity, and kept his supposed secret to himself. The most beautiful girl in the house was ready to offer herself and her fortune as consolations, if this impenetrable bachelor would only have taken her into his confidence. He smiled sadly, and changed the subject.
Defeated so far, the women accepted the next alternative.
One of the guests staying in the house was Mr. Cosway's intimate friend--formerly his brother-officer on board ship. This gentleman was now subjected to the delicately directed system of investigation which had failed with his friend.