CHAPTER VII.
The girl turned round upon him like a fury.
‘How dare you,’ she cried, ‘make such an infamous proposal to me? I don’t believe papa ever told you to say so. I don’t believe he would have thought of such a thing if you had not put it into his head. You are not telling me the truth, Mr Hindes. What spite have you against me, that you are always trying to put a spoke in my wheel in this way. You never propose anything for my pleasure, it is always something for my pain. I believe you have taken a hatred to me, you go against me so persistently.’
‘I—I hate you, Jenny!’ stammered Hindes.
‘Yes, I feel sure you do, else why should you be forever urging papa to do something to displease me. I have seen it for years past. Every obstacle that has been thrown in my way has been by your advice. What am I to you? Why can’t you let me and my affairs alone?’
‘Why can’t I let you alone? Why am I for ever interesting myself in your affairs?’ he repeated after her. ‘Cannot you guess, Jenny; has no glimmer of the truth reached your heart during all these years? Well, then, I will tell you; it is because I love you.’
‘A nice way of loving,’ interposed the girl sarcastically.
‘Yes! you may laugh, but it will not unmake the fact. I love you, Jenny, as no one of your admirers has ever loved you yet, love you with the fire and fervour of a disappointed man, of one who knows, and has known for years past, that his love is of no avail, that it lives without hope, but still lives, burning on—loving on—because it can never die even if it would, because it would not die even if it could. Oh! my darling! I have loved you for years. Just give me one look of pity at last.’
But Jenny recoiled from him with a shudder of disgust.
‘How dare you! how dare you!’ she panted; ‘and you pretend to be my friend, you, a married man. Oh! you have made me feel that I have sunk low indeed.’