“Then say it here, or leave it unsaid, for I’ve no mind for the doorstep,” drawled Betty with would-be carelessness; but some instinct told the lover that here was a citadel whose half-hearted garrison might be taken by assault, and grasping her by the arm, he moved toward the door, exclaiming half laughingly,—
“You must come, Betty, for else I’ll make such a noise that they’ll all stop singing to turn and look at us.”
“You’re overbold, William Pabodie,” replied Betty icily; but yielding to both force and argument she allowed herself to be led not only to the doorstep, but down the steep path, through the garden all odorous with pinks and roses, to the spot beside the pool where still lay the broken branch of lilac, and where upon the old willow-trunk still seemed to linger the perfume of Gillian’s presence.
“Why do you bring me here?” asked Betty, a sob rising in her throat, but bravely choked back again.
“Because here where an hour or two ago you set me down as false and fickle, here have I brought you to hear me say that I love you, Betty; and, what is more, I never have loved any woman but you, and if I may not have you for my wife I’ll go a bachelor to my grave. Betty, will you be my wife?”
“If you’ve naught else to recommend you, Master Pabodie, none can accuse you of want of courage,” replied Betty quietly, and throwing aside the mask that in the last hours had smothered her true feelings, she stood before him pale, stern, and pitiless. The young fellow looked at her in dismay.
“Betty! Don’t you believe me, Betty?”
“Believe you when, or at which time? I believed a year or so ago that you cared somewhat for me, at least you came as near to saying it as I would let you, till I could know mine own mind”—
“And then did your mind turn to me, Betty?” demanded the lover eagerly.
“There was no time for it to turn, unless it had been such a weather-cock as yours, for I had not well got to thinking of the matter before I saw that you had forgot it, and were running like a well-broke spaniel at Gillian Brewster’s heel, so I thought no more on’t, and was just as well content it should be so. And then Gillian went away, and you, just like our Neptune when father’s from home, went questing round seeking a master, and seemed willing to have me for one; and partly because you plagued me so, I came here to stay awhile, and then when you came to-day, and whispered in mine ear that it was to see me you’d made the excuse to come, my silly vanity believed the tale, and I had well-nigh been fool enough to trust you, as I would one of my own brothers who know not how to lie; but happily for me, Gillian also came, and I found you toying with her, and giving flowers, and looking into her eyes, and—oh, I know not what all—it makes me sick, it does, and all I want is to go mine own way, and have you go yours, and let there be an end of all this folly here and now.”