She could in no other way account for his strange conduct, and she sat staring at him while he continued: “I told you once that when I wanted my bill I’d let you know. I’d ask for pay. I want it now. I present my bill.”
With a scared, miserable feeling, Maddy listened to him, wondering where she should get the money, if it were possible for her grandfather to raise it, and how much her entire wardrobe would bring, suppose she should sell it! The bill had not troubled her latterly, for she had fallen into a way of believing that the doctor would wait until she was graduated and could earn it by teaching. Nothing could be more inopportune than for him to present it now; and with a half-stifled sob she began to speak, but he stopped her by a gesture, and sitting down beside her, said, in a voice more natural than the one with which he had at first addressed her:
“Maddy, I know you have no money. It is not that I want, Maddy; I want—I want—you.”
He bent down over her now, for her face was hidden in her hands, all sense of sight shut out, all sense of hearing, too, save the words he was pouring into her ear—words which burned their way into her heart, making It throb for a single moment with gratified pride, and then growing heavy as lead as she knew how impossible it was for her to pay the debt in the way which he desired.
“I can’t, doctor; oh, I can’t!” she sobbed. “I never dreamed of this; never supposed you could want me for your wife. I’m only a little girl—only sixteen last October—but I’m so sorry for you, who have been so kind. If I only could love you as you deserve! I do love you, too; but not the way you mean. I cannot be Maddy Holbrook; no; doctor, I cannot.”
She was sobbing piteously, and in his concern for her the doctor forgot somewhat the stunning blow he had received.
“Don’t, Maddy darling!” he said, drawing her trembling form closely to him, “Don’t be so distressed. I did not much think you’d tell me yes, and I was a fool to ask you. I am too old; but, Maddy, Guy is as old as I am.”
The doctor did not know why he said this, unless in the first keenness of his disappointment there was a satisfaction in telling her that the objection to his age would apply also to Guy. But it did not affect Maddy one whit, or give her the slightest inkling of his meaning. He saw it did not, and the pain was less to bear. Still, he would know certainly if he had a rival, and so he said to her:
“Do you love some one else, Maddy? Is another preferred before me, and is that the reason why you cannot love me?”
“No,” Maddy answered, through her tears. “There is no one else. Whom should I love, unless it were you? I know nobody but Guy.”