He began to question her eagerly as to the future. With whom was she to pass the remainder of the year—and where?
'With my father and Aunt Pattie of course,' said Eleanor, smiling. 'It will be Scotland I suppose till November—then London.'
He was silent for a few moments, the colour flooding his smooth fair face. Then he took her hand firmly, and with words and gestures that became him well, he solemnly asked her to marry him. He was not fit to tie her shoes; but he could take care of her; he could be her courier, her travelling companion, her nurse, her slave. He implored her to listen to him. What was her father to her—he asked her plainly—when had he ever considered her, as she should be considered? Let her only trust herself to him. Never, never should she repent that she had done him such an inconceivable honour. Hang the diplomatic service! He had some money; with her own it would be enough. He would take her to Egypt or the Cape. That would revive her.
Eleanor heard him very calmly.
'You dear, dear boy!' she said, when he paused for lack of breath. 'You remind me of that pretty story—don't you remember?—only it was the other way about—of Lord Giffard and Lady Dufferin. He was dying—and she married him—that she might be with him to the end. That's right—for the woman. It's her natural part to be the nurse. Do you think I'm going to let you ruin your career to come and nurse me? Oh! you foolish Reggie!'
But he implored her; and after a while she grew restless.
'There's only one thing in the world you can do for me!—' she said at last, pushing him away from her in her agitation.
Then reaching out from her sofa, she opened a drawer in a little table beside her, and took out a double photograph-case, folded together. She opened it and held it out to him.
'There!—help me bring those two together, Reggie—and I'll give you even more of my heart than I do now!'
He stared, open-mouthed and silent, at the portraits, at the delicate, illumined face.