“I—I hope she is,” he said unsteadily. “Grizel you brought me back to life, but I dared not hope for this.—I’ll work like ten men; I will pour out my life for you like water, but I can never repay—never be worthy. Oh, my beautiful, that you should give up so much for met The wonder of it stuns me. Ought I to let you?”
“You can’t help it. I’m here,” cried Grizel once more. She tilted her face to look up at him, laughing, with the tears still wet on her lashes. “And, oh, Martin, won’t it sell your books! Think of the advertisement! Shall we keep it quiet until the new novel is out? Not too long, because, you know, I don’t mean to touch that money. It wouldn’t be straight, when I’m going to break the condition. There must be no question of staying on in the house, and making a book. I am not going back...”
“And when—when?” queried Martin hotly. “Grizel, will you come to me at once? Why should we wait? Everything is ready, if you are really willing to come to this tiny house. If it comes to that, I can’t wait, and I won’t! You shall never leave me again.”
“Oh, won’t I though,” Grizel laughed softly, pushing him from her with determined hands. “Now—let’s be sensible!—Sit over there, and I’ll tell you just what I will do, and what I won’t—I won’t marry you until the old Buddy has been dead for some months, and I won’t ever live in this house. We’ll find another, that looks to the sun, and I’ll furnish it in my own way, with my own fads. Buddy gave me lots of treasures for my own rooms. They are mine whatever I do, and I must have room for them. I have five hundred a year, you know, Martin. Shall you be able to afford a better house with an extra five hundred?”
“I can afford it now. You are quite right, it would be better to move, but I’m not going to touch a halfpenny of your money, sweetheart. You must keep that for yourself. It will seem little enough.”
“It takes a great deal to dress me!” sighed Grizel plaintively. “Can’t think why, when I’m so thin. And my lame dogs! I must squeeze out something for them. Well! there are some good pictures, and curios, and jewels. They are mine, too. With an occasional visit to the pawnshop, we’ll last out, somehow, till I’m fifty. Won’t be so long either! But, Martin! in heaven’s name, Who will order the dinners?”
“Perhaps—er—Katrine!” Martin’s voice sounded nervous and miserable. Grizel had thought of Juliet, but she had not mentioned Katrine, the obvious, living difficulty. He hated to remind her of it; hated to feel that his home was not his own.
“Yes. Perhaps—er—Katrine,” returned Grizel sweetly. She smiled into space, her face swept clear of expression, while Martin searched vainly for the hidden thought.
“I’m—sorry, darling! I hate the thought of a third person. It would be so perfect alone, but—Katrine has given me her youth, and there is nowhere else she could go. I should be a cur if I turned her out.”
“An ungrateful cur. We’ll never do it. I wouldn’t, if you could!”