Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Nobility -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
Master Noel said nothing, because he was too astonished to speak, and
Agnes, seeing his surprise, and guessing its cause, waited, somewhat
defiantly, for him to make an observation. She was dressed in a gray
silk frock, with a hat and gloves, and shoes to match, and drew off a
fur-lined cloak of maroon-colored velvet, when she entered the room. Her
face was somewhat pale and her eyes looked unnaturally large, but she
had a resolute expression about her mouth, which showed that she had
made up her mind. Lambert, swift, from long association, to read her
moods, wondered what conclusion she had arrived at, and proceeded to
inquire.
"Whatever is the meaning of this?" he demanded, considerably startled.
"This dress?"
"Of course. Where is your widow's cap and--"
"In the fire, and there they can remain until they are burned to ashes."
Lambert stared harder than ever. "What does it mean?" he asked again.
"It means," said Agnes, replying very directly, "that the victim is no
longer decked out for the sacrifice. It means, that as Hubert insulted
me by his will, I no longer intend to consider his memory."
"But, Agnes, you respected him. You always said that you did?"
"Quite so, until his will was read. Then when I found that his mean
jealousy--which was entirely unreasonable--had arranged to rob me of my
income by preventing my marriage with you, I ceased to have any regard
for him. Hubert knew that I loved you, and was content to take me on
those terms so long as I was loyal to him. I _was_ loyal, and did what
I could to show him gratitude for the way in which he helped the family.
Now his will has broken the bargain I respect him no longer, and for
that reason I refuse to pose any longer as a grieving widow."
"I wonder, with these thoughts, that you posed at all," said Lambert
gloomily, and pushed forward a chair.
"I could not make up my mind until lately what to do," explained Agnes,
sitting down gracefully, "and while I accepted his money it appeared to
me that I ought to show his memory the outward respect of crape and all
the rest of it. Now," she leaned forward and spoke meaningly, "I am
resolved to surrender the money. That breaks the link between us. The
will! the will!" she tapped an impatient foot on the carpet. "How could
you expect any woman to put up with such an insult?"
Lambert dropped on the sofa and looked at her hard. "What's up?" he
asked anxiously. "I never saw you like this before."
"I was not free when you last saw me," she replied dryly.
"Oh, yes; you were a widow."
"I mean free, in my own mind, to marry you. I am now. I don't intend to
consider the family or society, or Mr. Silver's threats, or anything
else. I have shaken off my fetters; I have discarded my ring." She
violently pulled off her glove to show that the circle of gold was
absent. "I am free, and I thank God that I am free."
"Agnes! Agnes! I can't reduce you to poverty by marrying you. It would
not be honorable of me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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