“We had expected to go this afternoon, if we had a satisfactory letter from you in time. If not, the interview was to be postponed until to-morrow.”
“And you have not had that satisfactory letter yet. Well, you shall have it now. The books are even more valuable than I thought. They number, I think you said, some eight hundred volumes. Now, I wish to propose a plan of my own. Suppose I advance you the sum of four hundred dollars on the books to begin with, allowing you to select such as in your home culture club you will doubtless need, and reserve the balance—I will not place an exact price on them now—to be drawn upon in case of further demand for money. Then, when you have made your fortune, you are to have the books back at the price I paid for them.”
The doctor waited some time for Margaret’s answer; but she stood with head slightly averted and was silent. At last he could wait no longer, but bending forward, glanced down at her face. Tears stood on the long lashes and trembled on her cheeks. “Margaret,” he cried sharply, “what have I said that is wrong?”
“Nothing!” she exclaimed, suddenly extending both hands to him. “Your goodness is so unexpected that I am not strong enough for it.”
He caught her hands in his own as he said impulsively: “Listen, Margaret. It is not goodness—it is rather pure selfishness. I came here this morning intent on offering you not the worth of the books, but something I was foolish enough to fancy of more value—myself. No, don’t start; but hear me out. Manlike, I fancied that I had but to speak and you would let me take you away from all the toil and privation; but now I know you——”
Margaret gently drew her hands away, and interrupted him: “I never dreamed of such a thing. It is impossible.”
“If I loved you, Margaret, had loved you for years—don’t look so incredulous—ever since you were a school-girl, and had waited patiently until the time was right, hoping that my love might win its response even as the flowers respond to the warmth and light of the sun—if I offered all this and a life-long devotion, would it then be impossible?”
Margaret glanced up wonderingly, appealingly, into the eager face above her.
“It is all so strange, so confusing; but I cannot—it would indeed be impossible; for—forgive me, I do not want to hurt you—I do not love you, Dr. Ely, and I——”
“Say no more,” he said gently, “I knew it even before I spoke; but I am glad you understand me. I have been a lonely man all my life, and you can perhaps imagine how, even old as I am, I find delight in the companionship of one who is quick to understand and appreciate all that interests me. I love you, dear child, with the one love of my life; but I shall never again obtrude it upon you. I must, however, claim one favor. I am willing to sink all that I had hoped to the calm basis of friendship; do not deny me that. Let me help you, even as I had meant to before I spoke, and I promise faithfully never to claim anything more at your hands than the just consideration of one friend for another. You stand alone and inexperienced—put aside what has passed and let my age and experience help you.”