She and I Volume II Part 11

No, not if you were a Talleyrand in love matters; and, so completely versed in the pathology of the "fitful fever," as to be able to diagnose it at a glance; besides nursing the patient through all the several stages of the disease--watching every symptom, antic.i.p.ating each change, bringing the "case," finally, to a favourable issue!

No, sir, or madam, or mademoiselle, as the case may be; you cannot do it--not in a quadrille, at all events, or I will;--but, no, I won't bet:--it is wrong to do so, Min told me!

Presently, on the music stopping, I led her to a seat in a quiet corner.

"Here"--thought I--"I shall be able to have you to myself without fear of interruption!"

I commenced my tale again; but, Min, evidently, did not wish to come to any decision now. She wanted to let matters remain as they were.

I could see this readily, by the way in which she tried to put me off, changing the conversation whenever I got on to the forbidden ground, and suggesting various irrelevant queries on my endeavouring again to chain her wilfully-erratic attention down to the one topic that I only thought worthy of interest.

The feminine mind, I believe, delights in uncertainty.

Girls are not half so anxious to have their lovers "declare themselves,"

as some ill-natured people would have us think. They much prefer holding on in delightful doubt--that pleasant "he-would-and-she- wouldn't" pastime that precedes a regular engagement or undoubted dismissal--just as a playful mouser sports with its victim, long after the trembling little beast has lost its small portion of life; pretending that it is yet alive and essaying to escape, when p.u.s.s.y knows right well that poor mousey's fate is sealed, as far as any further struggles on its part are concerned.

A man, on the contrary, abhors suspense.

It is not business-like, you know.

He much desiderates a plain answer to a plain exposition of fact or fancy--even when it takes the form of that excruciating little monosyllable "no."

Those diminutive arts and petty trickeries of feigned resistance, with which our "angels without wings" strive to delay the surrender of the maiden-citadels of their hearts, are but vexatious obstacles to his legitimate triumph. These, the veteran wooer attempts to carry by storm at once, seeing through their utter transparency:--to the unpractised Damon, however, they a.s.sume the proportions of an organised defence.

Look at my case, for instance:--I had hardly managed to manoeuvre Min into my selected corner, and to say two words on the subject that occupied all my thoughts; when, she, who had previously condoled with me on the "horrid crowd" that prevented our having "a nice chat" together, as "we used to have last year," and joined in abusing "that wretched quadrille," which had interfered so sadly with our talking, now tried to baulk my purpose of an explanation by every means in her power.

Ladies having generally ample resources to suit such ends, it was almost useless for me to combat her obvious resolve.

The moment I sat down beside her, what does she do, but, ask me to get her an ice--it was "_so_ hot!"

Of course, I started off to procure it, our conversation being stopped meanwhile; but then, when I had scrambled through the crowd in the doorway, making ninepins of all the male wallflowers; had rudely jostled the peripatetics on the staircase; and, literally, fought my way into the supper-room and back to her again with the desired dainty--what do you think was my reward?

I a.s.sure you, there was the identical, horrible person, with sandy hair and sallow, elongated features--whom I had before routed in the matter of Min's dancing with him,--seated in my chair, chattering away at a fine rate to my darling; and, she?--

Was listening to his sallies with apparent contentment.

It was, enough to have caused a Puritan to swear!

She saw that I was annoyed; but, she thanked me so prettily for her ice, that my anger towards her was instantly appeased:--not so, however, toward the interloper! I gnawed, in impotent fury, the attenuated ends of the small fragment of a moustache which nature had allotted to me, and talked at him and over him, so pointedly, that he had to beat a retreat and claim some other partner for the ensuing waltz.

We were again left alone; but, Min, still, wouldn't listen to me a moment!

"Oh, Frank!" she said. "This is _our_ dance, I think, is it not? We have sat out _such_ a time! Do let us begin."

I liked dancing, but wanted to speak more; so, I got angry again.

"You are cruel to me, Min,"--I said.--"You _know_ that I wish to speak to you seriously, and you won't let me have a chance. You can joke and laugh, while I'm breaking, my heart! I will leave you"--and, I walked away from her out of the room and down the staircase--very proudly, very defiantly, very miserably.

On my way I met, or rather encountered, our sandy friend who had spoilt my interview. There was a heavy crush on the stairs; and so, somebody else having shoved against me, I revenged myself on this gentleman, giving him such a malicious dig in the ribs from my elbow as elicited a deep sighing groan. This was some slight satisfaction to me. It sounded exactly like the affected "Hough!" which paviours give vent to, when wielding their mallets and ramming down the stones of the roadway!

In the hall, as I was hunting for my overcoat and hat, which had been buried beneath an avalanche of other upper garments, Min, who had followed me down, laid her hand timidly on my arm. She looked up in my face entreatingly.

"You are not going yet, Frank, are you?" she asked.

"Yes," said I, curtly. "What should I stay for? Do you think I find it so amusing to be laughed at? It is very poor fun, _I_ think!"

"But you, surely, won't go before saying good-bye to the lady of the house, Frank?" she then said.

She evidently thought, you see, that I was going to commit an unpardonable breach of good manners; and, that made her call me back-- nothing else!

I returned with her to the drawing-room. Min's face was quite pale now; and, the little rosebud lips were pressed closely together, as if in set determination. She perceived that she could not any longer put off what she knew was coming--no matter what might have been her kindly intent in so wishing to do.

On our entrance the band was playing the _Mabel_ waltz. How well I remember it!

We joined in for a few turns; and, as I clasped my arm round her darling waist, feeling her warm heart beating against mine, I longed to clasp her so always, and waltz on for ever!

In a little while we rested; and, getting her to walk out on to the canopied balcony through the French windows of the drawing-room, I there said my say to her, amidst the waving ferns and showy azaleas that surrounded us.

We had the place all to ourselves; for, as it was now early in the morning, most of the guests had already gone:--the indefatigables who remained were too busily engaged to mind us. They were making the most of the last waltz, which was protracted to an indefinite length.

"Min, my darling,"--said I, after a brief pause, looking straight down into her honest, upturned face,--"will you promise to be my wife, or no?"

"O-oh, Frank!" she murmured, bending her head down without another word.

"Darling!"--I continued.--"You know full well that I love you; and I've thought, dearest, that you loved me a little?"

"Hush! Do not speak so, dear Frank; you grieve me so," she said.

"Have you forgotten all the past then, Min? Don't you remember last year, and all that happened then?"--I asked.

"I remember, Frank," she whispered, rather than spoke.

"And do you not love me still, darling?" I pleaded:--"Look up into my face, and let me see your eyes:--_they_ won't deceive me, I know!"

But, the dear, grey eyes would not meet mine.

"Oh, Min, my darling!" I asked again, pressing her closely to my heart, "will you not promise to be my wife? Sweet, I love you so!"

"They are looking at us, Frank,"--was her rejoinder--"let us waltz on."

We had some more turns, "Mabel" still dominant in the orchestra. O that air! I can hear it now, as I heard it then, ringing yet in my ears--as it will continue always to haunt me!

When we stopped again, I repeated my question once more. I was determined to have an answer, good or bad.

"Frank," she said, hurriedly, "I cannot say anything; I have promised:-- I have promised. Pray, do not ask me!"

She spoke with great agitation. There was a tremor in her voice; and, I could see _now_ that the soft grey eyes, which were piteously turned to mine, were tearful and sad. I was mad, however, with love and grief, or I could not have resisted the mute entreaty I there read--to be silent.

"Min," I went on to say, pa.s.sionately, "you must now decide whether we are to meet again, or part for ever! You know how I love you now, have loved you ever since I first saw your darling face,--will love you until my heart ceases to beat! But, I cannot, oh! I cannot go on like this.