“I am very fond of you, Mildred, and I will make you a good and true husband.”
“Precisely; that is what I expected, but it is not enough for me. There was a time when I thought that I could be well satisfied if you would only look kindly upon me, but I suppose that l’appetit vient en mangeant, for, now you do that, I am not satisfied. I long to reign alone. But that is not all. I will not consent to tie you, who do not love me, to my apron-strings for life. Believe me, the time is very near when you would curse me, if I did. You say”—and she rose and stretched out her arm—“that you will either marry me or go. I have made my choice. I will not beat out my heart against a stone. I will not marry you. Go, Arthur, go!”
A great anxiety came into his face.
“Do you fully understand what you are saying, Mildred? Such ties as exist between us cannot be lightly broken.”
“But I will break them, and my own heart with them, before they become chains so heavy that you cannot bear them. Arthur”—and she came up to him, and put her hands upon his shoulders, looking, with wild and sorrowful eyes, straight into his face—“tell me now, dear—do not palter, or put me off with any courteous falsehood—tell me as truly as you will speak upon the judgment-day, do you still love Angela Caresfoot as much as ever?”
“Mildred, you should not ask me such painful questions; it is not right of you.”
“It is right; and you will soon know that it is. Answer me.”
“Then, if you must have it, I do.”
Her face became quite hard. Slowly she took her hands from his shoulders.
“And you have the effrontery to ask me to marry you with one breath, and to tell me this with the next. Arthur, you had better go. Do not consider yourself under any false obligation to me. Go, and go quickly.”