WaynfleteColeridge, Christabel R. (Christabel Rose)
General
Waynflete
Coleridge, Christabel R. (Christabel Rose)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
He came close to her, taking her hands and looking down at her, with
eyes to which his eagerness lent a sort of fierce determination.
Constancy's heart gave a great throb as the blood rushed to her face,
but startled as she was, she held her own.
"Now you are spoiling everything that is so extremely pleasant. You
know quite well I never thought of anything of that sort. We have had
such a very good time. Now, don't say any more. I never meant--"
"You must have meant it at Waynflete; you meant me to believe it."
"Now, you are making a great deal too much of things. Why, you know, I
have my work at college--"
"If you care a bit for me, what does that matter?"
Godfrey's face darkened, and filled with passionate desire.
"You don't care for me?" he said, hoarsely.
"Well, no," she said, "not in that way. I'm not sentimental; and you--
we--are much too young to think of such nonsense. Let us find the
others."
Godfrey stood in her path for a moment. He was smarting, not only under
her refusal, but under her deliberate ignoring of his depth of feeling.
"I _am_ young," he said, "young enough to wait, and I will _make_ you
care. The love I offer you is worth a great deal more than you pretend
to think. I'll--I'll make you see that yet. Allow me--to show you the
way back to the others."
He stood aside and pointed the way, forcing his manner into rigid
politeness, but his face white, and his eyes fixing hers. His whole
nature rose against defeat, though, as he fell behind her, he felt so
miserable that, boy as he was, his throat ached, and unshed tears stung
his eyelids.
Constancy felt strange thrills.
She dashed into the midst of the others, as they came out, and
breathlessly remarked on the beauty of the bridge they were crossing,
"So picturesque," she said.
"If the stream was clean," said Guy.
"Well, you often call a dirty child picturesque; why not a dirty river,
with a tree and a barn, or whatever it is? I think it's beautiful."
"Beauty that is marred," said Guy.
"Then it has more human interest," said Constancy. "It is another
aspect of what I said about the summeriness of London."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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