“I sha’n’t,” said Marie, trying to pucker her small face into a black frown, and then had to burst out laughing. “You silly boy!” She hugged his arm. “I spoil you, don’t I?”
“You do, you do, like the angel you are.”
“There’s a want of originality about you, Alan. You are always calling me an angel. What else am I?”
“A goddess, a gazelle, a Queen of the May——”
“In December; how ridiculous!” and Miss Inderwick laughed gayly, her good temper quite restored.
The lovers walked slowly through the village and up to the gates of the neglected park, chatting much in the same strain. Of course they talked great nonsense, as lovers do when together, and the language of Cupid can scarcely be described as instructive. Alan was a sensible and clever young man, and Marie was by no means wanting in mother-wit, and yet their conversation was so characteristic of their several states of mind, which had entirely to do with the wooing of man and maid, that a common-sense person past the turtle-dove stage would have doubted their sanity. But then love is a madness which attacks the young at certain seasons, and custom has so sanctified the lunacy, that those so crazed are not locked up. And mercifully when the glamor of love is on them, they prefer to keep to themselves, so that indifferent people are not compelled to witness their eccentricities. Only when they were walking up the avenue, did the conversation become more reasonable.
“Why does Uncle Ran wish to see you, Alan?” asked Marie curiously.
“He intends to show me his collection of gems,” replied Fuller, who did not think it prudent to be too open, until he knew more of Sorley’s mind. He did not like the man, and suspected him of having committed a crime; but until he was certain of his guilt, he wished to keep silence. After all, the girl by his side was the daughter of the man’s sister, and her guardian, so it was best to say as little as possible.
“Oh, he has got lovely jewels,” said Marie, readily accepting the explanation, which certainly was a true one. “I wish he would let me wear some of them. It seems so stupid to lock up a lot of beautiful diamonds and emeralds and sapphires. When they come to me—as Uncle Ran says they will—I sha’n’t leave them in their care, but wear them.”
“You will look like the Queen of Sheba, my darling.”