“Oh!”
Ellen looked up anxiously. What did that emphatic “oh” mean. Had Mahone only thought of this for the first time?
The face she cast her timid eyes upon was changing rapidly; first, a red flame darted up to the roots of his ruddy hair, then the color melted away, and a slow pallor stole over it, while a thoughtful and sinister light crept into the golden-green eyes. Ellen grew fearfully uneasy. The thousands she coveted would lose half their value, unless Mahone himself was counted in.
“You say ‘oh,’ as if I had hinted at something disagreeable, Mr. Mahone? If so, let us drop the subject. Other people can be found.”
Mahone started, for the girl spoke in bitter earnest.
“Other people, my dear?”
“Miss Post, if you please.”
“Don’t be so cold, so cruel! If I said ‘oh,’ it was because a prospect of happiness broke upon me, that took away my breath.”
Here Mahone seized the hand which was lifted to the cap-string again, and repeated the naughty word oh, oh, oh, half a dozen times between the kisses he lavished upon it; but, strange to say, the obnoxious syllable seemed rather pleasant to her than otherwise this time. Circumstances alter cases, you know.
“To think that I shall have a creature like this, and five thousand dollars, all in a breath. I cannot believe it. If a fortune-teller had foretold it, I should have set her down as a rank impostor, and refused to pay her fee. But now, tell me, my Ellen, is it real? Not the money. I don’t care the snap of my finger for that! But is it possible that you love me?”