“I solemnly declare to you that it is not,” he rejoined with emphasis; “but even if it were, have you not heard that pity is akin to love?”
“It is utterly impossible,” she said slowly. “You are speaking out of the goodness of your heart, on the impulse of the moment. This time yesterday, tell me honestly,” raising her lovely eyes to his, “had you any intention of—of—of this?”
“To be truthful, then, I had not.”
“There, you see, that is enough. There is your answer,” with a quick little gesture.
“No, no, hear me out. It was on your account that I held my tongue. If I had had a decent income I would have spoken to you long ago; but I felt that I had no right to remove you from Mrs. Harper’s care without having a comfortable home to offer you. I meant to work very hard and to return next year. Now all has been changed. Circumstances alter cases. I ask you now, Madeline, will you be afraid to begin with me at the bottom of the ladder—something tells me that I shall reach the top?”
“I shall only be a dead weight and a burden,” she replied in a broken voice. She was relenting. Her own heart was an eloquent advocate for Mr. Wynne.
“What will your relations say when they hear that you wish to marry a portionless girl, a—beggar?” she murmured tremulously.
“They will say nothing that can affect us. I am independent. I have no claims on them, and they have no right to dictate to me. By the time they hear the news, we shall, I hope, be married. We have nothing to wait for, and the sooner you have a home of your own the better. I wish I had a sister or some near relative that I could take you to, but I am almost as much alone in the world as you are.”
In the end Mr. Wynne prevailed—was not talking his trade?—and Madeline West walked out of that wintry white garden his affianced wife.
Rash young man! Rash young woman! One would have thought that they had the wealth of Crœsus, the full consent and warmest wishes of tribes of wealthy relations, to look at their faces as they passed through the gates side by side.