England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
Again they were silent for a few moments. They had reached the
Common, and Cobb struck along a path most likely to be unfrequented.
No wind was blowing; the rain fell in steady spots that could all
but be counted, and the air grew dark.
'Well, I can only propose one thing,' sounded the masculine voice.
'You can get out of it by marrying me.'
Louise gave a little laugh, rather timid than scornful.
'Yes, I suppose I can. But it's an awkward way. It would be rather
like using a sledge-hammer to crack a nut.'
'It'll come sooner or later,' asserted Cobb, with genial confidence.
'That's what I don't like about you.' Louise withdrew her arm
petulantly. 'You always speak as if I couldn't help myself. Don't
you suppose I have any choice?'
'Plenty, no doubt,' was the grim answer.
'Whenever we begin to quarrel it's your fault,' pursued Miss
Derrick, with unaccustomed moderation of tone. 'I never knew a man
who behaved like you do. You seem to think the way to make anyone
like you is to bully them. We should have got on very much better if
you had tried to be pleasant.'
'I don't think we've got along badly, all things considered,' Cobb
replied, as if after weighing a doubt. 'We'd a good deal rather be
together than apart, it seems to me; or else, why do we keep
meeting? And I don't want to bully anybody--least of all, you. It's
a way I have of talking, I suppose. You must judge a man by his
actions and his meaning, not by the tone of his voice. You know very
well what a great deal I think of you. Of course I don't like it
when you begin to speak as if you were only playing with me; nobody
would.'
'I'm serious enough,' said Louise, trying to hold the umbrella over
her companion, and only succeeding in directing moisture down the
back of his neck. 'And it's partly through you that I've got into
such difficulties.'
'How do you make that out?'
'If it wasn't for you, I should very likely marry Mr. Bowling.'
'Oh, he's asked you, has he?' cried Cobb, staring at her. 'Why
didn't you tell me that before?--Don't let me stand in your way. I
dare say he's just the kind of man for you. At all events, he's like
you in not knowing his own mind.'
'Go on! Go on!' Louise exclaimed carelessly. 'There's plenty of
time. Say all you've got to say.'
From the gloom of the eastward sky came a rattling of thunder, like
quick pistol-shots. Cobb checked his steps.
'We mustn't go any further. You're getting wet, and the rain isn't
likely to stop.'
'I shall not go back,' Louise answered, 'until something has been
settled.' And she stood before him, her eyes cast down, whilst Cobb
looked at the darkening sky. 'I want to know what's going to become
of me. The Mumfords won't keep me much longer, and I don't wish to
stay where I'm not wanted.'
'Let us walk down the hill.'
A flash of lightning made Louise start, and the thunder rattled
again. But only light drops were falling. The girl stood her ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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