“Oh, you needn’t be away half an hour. I shall stand here and look out of the window,” she answered, taking up her post.
The young man left the room.
She did not stand there long, for again some nameless horror of her position, and dread of consequences, seized upon her soul, and drove her to walking rapidly up and down the floor, muttering to herself:
“Was ever a wretched human being driven to such extremity as I am? Is there any way out of my trouble except through this strange marriage, and am I, all this time, so insane, as I suspect I am, that I cannot see it? Even David Lindsay proposed to take me to old Madame de Crespigney, and David Lindsay worships me, poor boy, that I know! But I cannot go to Madame de Crespigney! I cannot go anywhere where Marcel could follow me and subdue me by his pleadings, and draw me to my own destruction and to his! I cannot trust Marcel! I cannot trust myself! I can only trust David Lindsay! And he is no clown, if he is a poor fisherman! See how he has improved himself. He talks as well as uncle does, though he may not be able to speak on so many different subjects. But, oh, Heaven, what is all this to the main question? That I should be obliged to marry any one to save myself from uncle and from my own heart! I don’t want to marry! I don’t! I don’t! I don’t! I never did wish to marry! I never meant to, either! But—if I must, I would rather trust David Lindsay than any one I know.”
So, muttering to herself, she paced rapidly up and down the floor until the entrance of other ladies into this public parlor arrested her murmuring complaints, though not her steps, for she continued to walk about the floor, stopping only once in a while to look out of the windows.
Several of the occupants of the room noticed the pale, sorrowful, and restless “child,” for such they took her to be, and formed their own theories of her distress. She was doubtless on her way to school, after her Christmas holidays, and was suffering from the separation from home and friends. But these people had their own affairs on their minds, and so could bestow but little attention on the troubles of the supposed homesick school-girl, whom they hoped to see presently taken care of by her parent, or guardian, or some other responsible person who had come with her as her escort.
For more than an hour Gloria walked restlessly about, or gazed from the front windows, while people came and went to and from the room, whose occupants were thus always changing.
Then at length David Lindsay returned. She drew him to a distant window, out of the hearing of all others, that he might give an account of himself.
“I was longer than you thought I should be, because I had to wait some time in the register’s office before I could get our license. Afterwards I had to inquire out the residences of clergymen, and I called at several before I could find any one disengaged. At length I found one at leisure—the Rev. Mr. O’Halloran, at St. Matthew’s church. He will meet us there immediately,” whispered David Lindsay.
Gloria began to tremble visibly.