Mavis of Green Hill Part 47

"Such a nice fire!" I said, happily, my face on Bill's one unscarred shoulder.

"You little wretch!"

He kissed me again.

Norah arrived with a very early breakfast. I twisted in Bill's hold.

To no avail. Bar, again, such strong bars, so tender, so utterly protective.

"What's the matter?"

"Norah--"

"But," said Bill in triumph, after the door had been shut behind the smiling woman, "after all, Mavis, we're married!"

"Why, so we are!"

I sat up in bed and stared at him.

"It's not fair!" said I, hotly.

"What?"

"We've not even been engaged," I said, "or anything. I don't like it!"

"Don't you, honestly?"

I shook my head, and then nodded, violently.

"You darling!" said my new Bill. "You lovely little thing. I adore you--"

"Why didn't you tell me so before?" I asked, in what was a deplorably peevish tone.

"Tell you! And get my face slapped! You were the p.r.i.c.kliest small porcupine, for all your soft ways--rather not! But Gosh," said Bill, "it was hard--"

"You might have saved us a lot of trouble," said I reproachfully.

He got to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Might I? I didn't know, you see. I had had your repeated a.s.surance that you regarded me as dirt under your little feet. How could I tell you?"

"You were awfully stupid!" said I, with keen satisfaction.

But he was kissing my finger-tips, protruding stiffly through the neat bandaging.

"Dear little hands!" he said. "Oh, Mavis--if anything had happened to you--"

"If anything had happened to _you_--!" said I, and for a moment we looked at each other in a sort of blind horror. Presently he smiled.

"But we're as right as rain!" said he. "We're young, all life before us--and we love each other--Thank G.o.d!" he ended, on a deep, grave note.

"Thank G.o.d!" said I, and put my arms up to him.

When he raised his head, his eyes were shining.

"My beloved wife!" said Bill.

I put him from me for a moment--looked into his eyes.

"Please," I said, very low, "it's all so new--and a little terrifying.

I--I didn't know I could feel like this. Will you let us go on just as we are--for a little while--? Perhaps I'm silly--but--I can't help it.

Please," I begged, "won't you let me get a little used to you--?"

His eyes were very tender now.

"Of course," he said. "You know that."

"A real engagement!" said I happily.

"That's the best thing, after all," said Bill, laughing, "married first, and then engaged for the rest of one's life!"

He held me very closely.

"I'll cherish you always," he said, "all my life long. I've wanted you so--Mavis. You'll never know. G.o.d bless you, my dearest!"

"Father," I said in my heart, "you were right: you knew. I'm so happy--"

And my heart answered me.

"Where are you going?" said I, sternly, to my husband, as he laid me back on my pillows and turned away.

"Outside," said he, with the old, impish grin, "to dance a fandango on the lawn! And, incidentally, to put on some clothes and pretend an intelligent interest--which I don't in the least experience--in Harry Reynolds destroyed sugar-crop. Bless those incendiary natives!" he added, piously.

"Back soon?" I asked.

"Don't look at me like that!" said Bill severely, "or I won't be able to go! As your physician I forbid you to endanger my pulse. It is hardly normal now. Try and rest, dear, and when I come back I want to see more steady color in your cheeks. You've had a pretty bad shock, Mavis--"

"I should say I have!" I said, in tones I vainly tried to infuse with self-pity. "How about yourself?"

He blew me a kiss--just a mean, tiny one--and vanished without answering, but poked his head in at the door immediately after, to ask, seriously,

"Shall I bring you a statement of your indebtedness to me when I return, Mrs. Denton?"

"I wish I'd cost you more," said I, crossly. "You just wait--I'm going to buy a trousseau when I get to New York that will put you in the poor-house. I'm afraid," said I primly, "that I must ask you to wait for your settlement, Doctor."

"I'll keep you so in debt," he declared, "that you will never be able to struggle out, and you'll pay me in love, young person, for every sleepless night I've spent, and every swear I've sworn behind closed doors, and for every time I've wanted to take you in my arms and kiss you till you cried for mercy--"

"I think--I shouldn't have cried," I said, reflectively.

He was back in the room again.