Her grief seemed to overcome her. She covered her face with her hands, and once more, in his perplexity and distress, Arthur was on the point of throwing himself at her feet, of declaring his boundless love.
Before he could decide she looked up again and spoke with apparent calm: "There are some difficulties in the story. Are you sure the waiter said he was old and like a foreigner?"
"Perfectly certain; I could not possibly be mistaken."
"Then he must have changed wonderfully in the short time."
"Forgive me for asking, Mrs. Grey, but whom do you suspect of this atrocity? I would not be intrusive for the world; I only wish to be your friend." The young man's voice trembled; he went on more rapidly: "You must know, you must have seen, that I take no common interest in your concerns. I feel this is neither the time nor the place to force my own feelings upon you; but, Margaret, when I see you alone, friendless, when I know it is in my power to give you everything, to devote myself to you utterly, even to bring back perhaps those days of happiness of which you spoke, how can I resist the temptation of letting you know all? Since first I saw you your fair, sad face has haunted me; I can think of nothing else. Ah! I have been idle, good-for-nothing, but all that has passed away. Give me hope, and I will yet make myself worthy of you."
He spoke with such impetuosity that it was almost impossible to stop him. But when he paused for lack of breath, Margaret drew herself away, putting back gently his pleading hand. Perhaps it was well for her that this new excitement came. It seemed to restore her strength of mind, her gentle, womanly dignity. "Hush!" she said quietly; "you must not speak to me in this way. If you really care for me you will respect my lonely position. Arthur, I am married, and my one absorbing anxiety is to see my husband again before I die. Come, I do not mean to lose you as a friend; you have shown yourself a man, and a noble man, to-day; you will soon overcome this weakness."
Arthur was looking away over the sea. He was staggered for a moment, and yet he was not really surprised. His voice was a little husky as he answered, for after all he was only a boy, and he had taught himself to hope. "Forgive my folly and presumption," he said.
She put her hand on his shoulder with the caressing gesture of an elder sister. "I want a friend," she said, smiling into his downcast face. "You shall be my brother, Arthur. I have never had a brother, for I was an only child, and my sole friend in the wide world is my solicitor. He is a man of position and character, and yet—do you know? my loneliness makes me so sensitive—I sometimes feel inclined to distrust even him."
"Can you tell me his name?"
"It is rather a common one. Very likely you will not know it. Mr. Robinson—James, I think, is his Christian name."