As he opened the door for me: “Promise you will come down to give me my coffee in the morning,” he said.
“Qui vivra verra,” I answered, and sauntered out into the hall. He followed me, and watched as I went up the staircase.
“Good-night!” I called softly, as I got to the top, and laughed a little—I don’t know why.
He bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time, and before I could turn the handle of my door, he stood beside me.
“I do not know what there is about you,” he said, “but you drive me mad—I shall insist upon carrying out my aunt’s wish after all! I shall marry you, and never let you out of my sight—do you hear?”
Oh! such a strange sense of exaltation crept over me—it is with me still! Of course he probably will not mean all that to-morrow, but to have made such a stiff block of stone rush upstairs, and say this much now is perfectly delightful!
I looked at him up from under my eyelashes. “No, you will not marry me,” I said, calmly; “or do anything else I don’t like, and now really good-night!” and I slipped into my room, and closed the door. I could hear he did not stir for some seconds. Then he went off down the stairs again, and I am alone with my thoughts.
My thoughts! I wonder what they mean. What did I do that had this effect upon him? I intended to do something, and I did it, but I am not quite sure what it was. However, that is of no consequence. Sufficient for me to know that my self-respect is restored, and I can now go out and see the world with a clear conscience.