"Perhaps I am; on the other hand, perhaps I am not. But, after all, little Miss Heather, the question of age scarcely matters. Deep in my heart there lives eternal youth, and now and then—oh, by no means always—but now and then, and especially when I am with you, it comes to the surface. Eternal youth is a beautiful thing, and when I see you, little Miss Grayson, and watch your innocent country ways, it visits me; it is like a cool, refreshing fountain, bubbling up in my heart."
"But aren't we perhaps talking fairy talk?" I said, pulling one of the roses out of its position in front of my dress and letting it fall to the floor.
He got very red, but nevertheless he kept himself well in control.
"I want you to think it over," he said. "I know you will be unprepared for what I mean to say. I want you as my wife. I can give you all the outward things that the hearts of most women desire—I can give you wealth, and beautiful dresses, and a lovely house—several lovely houses—to live in; and I can make the best, and the greatest, and the cleverest people your friends. I can take you far away, too, from this flash and glitter. Little child, I can help to save you. Will you be my wife? Don't—at least to-night—say no. I promise to make you the best, the most devoted of husbands. I shall love you as I never loved woman, and you will soon get accustomed to my grey hairs, and to the fact that I am forty years of age. Don't say no, little Heather. I have loved you with my whole heart, from the first moment I saw you."
I knew that, in spite of myself, my eyes opened wide, so wide that presently they filled with tears, and the tears dropped down and splashed on the roses which I had put on with such pride. I knew now from where the flowers had come. I hated the roses; I loathed their heavy perfume. I rose abruptly.
"Lord Hawtrey," I said, "I ought to thank you, but I am too young and confused, and—and—oh, I must say it!—too distressed! You don't want to force me to this?"
"No. You must come to me of your own free will."
"I believe you are a very good man," I said; "I am sure of it, and I thank you very much; but you must understand that to me you seem like a father, and I can never, never think of you in any other light. You will forgive me, but I cannot say any more—I can never say any more. I do like you, but I can never say anything more at all."
I did not touch his hand. I walked slowly towards the door; Lord Hawtrey opened it for me; I passed out. He bent his head in acknowledgment of my "Good night," and then, as I was going upstairs, I noticed that he shut the drawing-room door very softly.