Zula Part 32

"I thought perhaps it might be offensive."

June's eyes were turned full upon Guy as she said:

"Tell me truly, Guy, do you think if I had been your wife that you would have been particular to keep the fact from my knowledge?"

"Perhaps not, but I am sure I should not indulge in the habit in your presence if it were distasteful to you."

"There should be no deception between man and wife. I shall not commit one act that my husband may not know of, and I shall expect a full knowledge of his behavior, whether at home or abroad. If such is not the case I would be unhappy. I would rather you would never deceive me in a small act. Of all faults I abhor deceit."

"Do you know of another fault that I have?" Guy asked thoughtfully.

"Perhaps one is enough to speak of at once."

"I would rather hear of all now."

"Then you may be angry."

"Not with you, June."

June remained silent a moment, as though she were calculating the propriety of showing Guy the fault which rested in her mind.

"I am waiting very patiently," he said.

"Will you promise not to become angry with me?"

"I promise."

"Well, then, you are inclined to be egotistical."

"What?"

"It is true."

"I cannot see when or how."

"I cannot see my faults, but I have them," said June earnestly. "I will cite you an instance. When your sister was speaking of a certain play we witnessed a few evenings since, and you did not agree with her upon the point she mentioned, you closed the argument in a manner which said plainly that your opinion was right, and further discussion useless."

Guy, looking steadily down at the carpet, asked:

"Was not my opinion correct?"

"It was, as far as my judgment went, but I might also have been wrong.

But even if it were right or wrong, the manner in which you expressed it really hurt your sister's feelings, though she said nothing."

"Is it not a little cruel, June, to pick out such disagreeable faults and hold them up before a man to mortify him?"

"Do you think that a disagreeable one?"

"Yes; of all faults that is one of the worst."

"Will you do me a favor, for the sake of friendship?"

"Any favor you may ask; what is it?"

"Correct that fault."

"I will try," said Guy, submissively.

"And what will you do with the other?" June asked, smiling.

"Kill it outright, since it is a useless habit; but really are those faults all I have?"

"They are all I have noticed."

"It seems to me you might be able to bear with two faults, since I have promised to correct them. I think if you had fifty I could overlook them all."

"No, I shall wait and study your character, your likes and dislikes, and if, after a certain time, I find myself capable of bearing, patiently, those which I cannot correct, I will give you my answer, provided you have not found a woman really faultless; meantime I ask as a favor that you speak freely of my faults whether great or small."

"Shall I begin now?"

"As soon as you please."

Guy looked at June's bright, loving face, and wondered if there was one fault to correct. In all their acquaintance he had never seen her ill-humored. He had never heard her speak disparagingly of anyone, farther than strict honesty compelled. He really did not know how there could be a fault; but since she wished it he would try and find some to hold up for her special benefit. She had often told him that she never would make a mark in the world; she would never be other than June, and she would only be known in the circle in which she moved. Guy laughed outright at the idea of such nonsense, as he called it. He wanted a wife; a companion. He had known actresses who had made a great name, but he would not give a penny for the best one in the land. His business gave him an opportunity to know something of the private life of poets and novel writers, and he never yet saw one, however amiable they might be, that was calculated to brighten their own home.

"I expect you will marry a literary woman some day," June said, mockingly. "She will probably have a mole on her chin."

"Well, there is no mole here," he said, looking closely at June, and starting to kiss the pretty lips.

"Not yet," she said, drawing away, "wait until you know all about my faults and, perhaps, you will change your mind."

"I know my own mind now, as well as I shall ever know it," Guy said, in a sober tone. "But I am willing to wait your decision, and I shall wait, June, a lifetime if necessary."

"It will not take a lifetime to find the defects in my nature," she said pleasantly.

"Do you bid me remain away?" he asked, as he neared the door.

"Certainly not. In that case I shall not be able to study your character."

"Good night," he said, pressing her hands, then he left the room.

The Spring had come again. Scott sat in his office with a huge pile of letters before him. He had been enabled to secure the services of a boy who had come well recommended, and who proved to be good and trusty, "but he never could fill the place of Paul," Scott said. If Paul were only here he would not be obliged to attend to so much corresponding. He really wondered how he could live without that boy.

He had been gone since February and it was now the month of May. How long the time seemed and to-day was the first that Scott had heard from him. He had the letter before him. It ran thus:

"MY DEAR EMPLOYER: Please pardon my long silence. The only excuse that I have is that I have been at work, the nature of which you will guess. Enclosed find a valuable paper. I send a messenger to carry it to you that I may know of its safe arrival. You will hear from me again ere long. Until then, trust and believe me your faithful servant,

PAUL."