He told her all there was to tell of Uncle Zach and his wife; of their
kind remembrances of her and of the drawing in which he was greatly
interested. And while he talked he was trying to decide how to say what
he had come to say. She had thrown off her hood and a ray of sunlight
fell on her hair and across her face, where the blushes were coming and
going as she talked with or listened to him, occasionally turning her
eyes upon him and then letting them fall as her woman’s instinct began
to tell her why he was there. He had been in love with Helen, but it was
a different kind of love from that which he now felt and which led him
at last to taking one of Alice’s hands which lay in her lap. She looked
at him in some surprise, and said inquiringly, “Mr. Mason?”
“I wish you would call me Craig,” he began. “We surely have known each
other long enough to dispense with formalities. To me you are Alice, and
you know I was engaged to your cousin, Mrs. Hilton.”
“Yes, she wrote me so,” Alice replied, and Craig went on: “You know,
too, the rest of the story: engaged to me one night, to Mark Hilton the
next. There is no need to go over with it. I loved her, and in the first
days of bitter pain I thought I could never be happy again. I was
mistaken. I _am_ very happy and would not have the past changed if I
could. I think I am a bungler at love making, but I am in earnest and I
am here to ask if you think you could in time care for me who once made
a fool of himself, but is sane now.”
He had made his speech and waited for Alice to answer. “Are you sure you
are making no mistake?” she said. “I am not like Helen,—not like your
world. I am a plain country girl, who, if she did not teach school for a
living, would have to work in the shoe shop or factory. I know but
little of fashionable life such as your wife ought to know, I am not
very good looking,—and——”
“What else?” Craig asked, with a comical smile of which she caught the
infection, and replied, “I do not like Browning, and don’t believe I
could understand Sordello if I lived to be a hundred.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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