Clergy -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
He interrupted her. “No, no,” he said jocularly—-his last remarks had
put him into a state of considerable self-satisfaction, and he no more
thought it possible that she could or would refuse him than that the
sky could fall—“do not buy a pig in a poke! Hear me out first, Miss
Kate, and we shall start fair. You have been in my house, and, if it is
not quite so large a house as this, I will answer for it you will find
it a great deal more lively. You will see people you have never seen
here, nor will see while your name is Bonamy. You will have—well,
altogether a better time. Not that I mind myself,” the doctor added
rather vaguely, forgetting the French proverb about those who excuse
themselves, “what your name is, not I! So don’t you think you could say
Yes at once, my dear?”
He took a step nearer, thinking he had put it rather neatly and without
any nonsense. Possibly, from his point of view of things, he had. But
Kate fell back, nevertheless, as he advanced.
“Oh, no,” she said, flushing painfully. “I could not! I could not
indeed, Dr. Gregg! I am very sorry.”
“Come, come,” he said, holding out his hand, his tone one of pleasant
raillery. He had looked for some hanging back, some show of coyness and
bashfulness, and was prepared to laugh in his sleeve at it—“I think you
can, Kate. I think it is possible.” That it was in woman’s nature to
say No to his comfortable home and the little lift in society he had to
offer—it is only little lifts we appreciate, just up the next floor
above us—he did not believe.
But Kate soon undeceived him. “I am afraid it is not possible,” she
said firmly. “Indeed, I may say at once, Dr. Gregg, that it is out of
the question what you ask; though I thank you, I am sure.”
His face fell ludicrously, and his thick black brows drew together in a
very ominous fashion. But he still could not believe that she meant it.
“I do not think you understand,” he said, “that the house is ready, and
the furniture and servants, and there is nothing to prevent you
stepping into it all whenever you please. I will take you away from
this,” he continued, darting a scornful glance round the stiff chilly
room—“I do not suppose that ten people enter this room in the
twelvemonth—and I will show you something like life. It is an offer not
many would make you. Come, Kate, do not be a little fool! You are not
going to say No, so say Yes at once. And don’t let us shilly-shally!”
He had put out his hand as he spoke and captured hers. But she snatched
it from him again almost roughly, and stepped back. The right man might
have used the words the doctor used, and might have scolded her with
impunity, but not the wrong one. Her face, perplexed and troubled a
moment before, grew decided enough now. “I am going to say No,
nevertheless, Dr. Gregg,” she replied firmly. “I thought I had already
said it. I will be as plain as you have been. I do not like you as a
wife should like her husband, nor otherwise than as a friend.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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