She trembled. 'O Nic! how could you do this--and without telling me!'
'Why should I have thought I must tell you? You had not spoken "frankly"
then as you have now. We have been all to each other more than these two
years, and I thought I would propose that we marry privately, and that I
then leave you on the instant. I would have taken my travelling-bag to
church, and you would have gone home alone. I should not have started on
my adventures in the brilliant manner of our original plan, but should
have roughed it a little at first; my great gain would have been that the
absolute possession of you would have enabled me to work with spirit and
purpose, such as nothing else could do. But I dare not ask you now--so
frank as you have been.'
She did not answer. The document he had produced gave such unexpected
substantiality to the venture with which she had so long toyed as a vague
dream merely, that she was, in truth, frightened a little. 'I--don't
know about it!' she said.
'Perhaps not. Ah, my little lady, you are wearying of me!'
'No, Nic,' responded she, creeping closer. 'I am not. Upon my word, and
truth, and honour, I am not, Nic.'
'A mere tiller of the soil, as I should be called,' he continued, without
heeding her. 'And you--well, a daughter of one of the--I won't say
oldest families, because that's absurd, all families are the same age--one
of the longest chronicled families about here, whose name is actually the
name of the place.'
'That's not much, I am sorry to say! My poor brother--but I won't speak
of that . . . Well,' she murmured mischievously, after a pause, 'you
certainly would not need to be uneasy if I were to do this that you want
me to do. You would have me safe enough in your trap then; I couldn't
get away!'
'That's just it!' he said vehemently. 'It is a trap--you feel it so, and
that though you wouldn't be able to get away from me you might
particularly wish to! Ah, if I had asked you two years ago you would
have agreed instantly. But I thought I was bound to wait for the
proposal to come from you as the superior!'
'Now you are angry, and take seriously what I meant purely in fun. You
don't know me even yet! To show you that you have not been mistaken in
me, I do propose to carry out this licence. I'll marry you, dear
Nicholas, to-morrow morning.'
'Ah, Christine! I am afraid I have stung you on to this, so that I
cannot--'
'No, no, no!' she hastily rejoined; and there was something in her tone
which suggested that she had been put upon her mettle and would not
flinch. 'Take me whilst I am in the humour. What church is the licence
for?'
'That I've not looked to see--why our parish church here, of course. Ah,
then we cannot use it! We dare not be married here.'
'We do dare,' said she. 'And we will too, if you'll be there.'
'If I'll be there!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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