She felt herself stronger; he was excited, but his excitement was not
contagious. The string vibrated, and the note was resonant, but it was
not a note which was consonant with hers, and it did not stir her to
respond. He might love her, he was sincere enough to sacrifice himself
for her, and to remain faithful to her, but the voice was not altogether
that of his own true self. Partly, at least, it was the voice of what he
considered to be duty, of superstition and alarm. She was silent.
‘Madge,’ he continued, ‘ought you to refuse? You have some love for me.
Is it not greater than the love which thousands feel for one another.
Will you blast your future and mine, and, perhaps, that of someone
besides, who may be very dear to you? _Ought_ you not, I say, to
listen?’
The service had come to an end, the organist was playing a voluntary,
rather longer than usual, and the congregation was leaving, some of them
passing near Madge and Frank, and casting idle glances on the young
couple who had evidently come neither to pray nor to admire the
architecture. Madge recognised the well-known St Ann’s fugue, and,
strange to say, even at such a moment it took entire possession of her;
the golden ladder was let down and celestial visitors descended. When
the music ceased she spoke.
‘It would be a crime.’
‘A crime, but I—’ She stopped him.
‘I know what you are going to say. I know what is the crime to the
world; but it would have been a crime, perhaps a worse crime, if a
ceremony had been performed beforehand by a priest, and the worst of
crimes would be that ceremony now. I must go.’ She rose and began to
move towards the door.
He walked silently by her side till they were in St Paul’s churchyard,
when she took him by the hand, pressed it affectionately and suddenly
turned into one of the courts that lead towards Paternoster Row. He did
not follow her, something repelled him, and when he reached home it
crossed his mind that marriage, after such delay, would be a poor
recompense, as he could not thereby conceal her disgrace.
CHAPTER XVIII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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