Carnival Part 41

She nodded.

"Jenny, you don't know how I hate myself for being unkind to you. I hate myself. I shall fret about this all night."

"Not still a miserable old thing?" she asked, fingering the smooth face of the opal that had caused such a waste of emotion.

"Happy now. So happy." He sighed on her breast.

"So am I."

"You're more to me every moment."

"Am I?"

"You're so sweet and patient. Such a pearl, such a treasure."

"You think so."

"My little Queen of Hearts, you've a genius for love."

"What's that?"

"I mean, you're just right. You never make a mistake. You're patient with my wretched artistic temperament. Like a perfect work of art, you're a perfect work of love."

"Maurice, you _are_ a darling," she sighed on the authentic note of pa.s.sionate youth in love.

"When you whisper like that, it takes my breath away.... Jenny are you ever going to be more to me even than you are now?"

"What do you mean, more?" she asked.

"Well, everything that a woman can be to a man. You see I'm an artist, and an artist longs for the completion of a great work. My love for you is the biggest thing in my life so far, and I long to complete it. Don't you understand what I mean?"

"I suppose I do," she said very quietly.

"Are you going to let me?"

"Some day I suppose I shall."

"Not at once?"

"No."

"Why not? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Kiss me," she said. "I can't explain. Don't let's talk about it any more."

"I can't understand women," Maurice declared.

"Ah!"

She smiled; but in the smile there was more of sadness than mirth.

"Why waste time?" he demanded pa.s.sionately. "G.o.d knows we have little enough time. Jenny, I warn you, I beg you not to waste time. You're making a mistake. Like all girls, you're keeping one foot in a sort of washy respectability."

"Don't go on," Jenny said. "I've told you I will one day."

"Why not come abroad with me if you're afraid of what your people will say?"

"I couldn't. Not while my mother was alive."

"Well, don't do that; but still it's easy enough not--to waste time.

Your mother need never find out. I'm not a fool."

"Ah, but I should feel a sneak."

Maurice sighed at such scruples.

"Besides," she added, "I don't want to--not yet. Can't we be happy like we have been? I will one day."

"You can't play with love," Maurice warned her.

"I'm not. I'm more in earnest than what you are."

"I don't think you are."

"But I am. Supposing if you got tired of me?"

"I couldn't."

"Ah, but that's where men are funny. All of a sudden you might take a sudden fancy to another girl. And then what about me? What should I do?"

"It comes to this," he argued. "You don't trust me yet. You don't believe in me. Good heavens, what can I do to show you I'm sincere?"

"Can't you wait a little while?" she gently asked.

"I must."

"And you won't ask me again?"

"I won't promise that."

"Well, not for a long time?" Jenny pleaded.

"I won't even promise that. You see I honestly think you're making a mistake--a mistake for which you'll be very sorry one day. I wish you understood my character better."

"All men are the same." She sighed out the generalization.