“You will think differently after a while,” he said, “and then——” The man was piqued by her perfect insensibility to the honour he had done her. But before he uttered the threat which came to his lips, better feelings came over him. “Yes, Innocent,” he said, “I made a mistake; I have been premature. But now listen to me. If ever you change your mind—if ever you wish to go away—if the time should come when you may be glad to think you have another home ready for you, and some one who loves you—then will you think of me? I will not be angry if you will promise this.”
“Oh, yes,” she cried gladly. “Yes, I will promise. I will think of you; I will run to you. It is not likely,” she added, half to herself, “that they will send me away, or that I shall wish to go; but if——”
“In that case you will come to me?”
“Yes, directly. I will remember. I promise—faithfully, faithfully!” The vague look brightened up into warmer intelligence as she held out her hand to him. I am not sure that the intelligence suited the face so well as its usual passive visionariness. This gleam of light made her more like a child than she had ever been before. Sir Alexis rose gravely, and, stooping over her, kissed her forehead. She shrank a hair’s breadth; but yet received the salute gravely too, without a blush, looking at him with a wondering endeavour to investigate his countenance. He could not be angry since he gave her this sign of amity. As for the discomfited lover himself, he took his hat, and went away very gravely, disappointed it is true, but touched and rendered serious, he could not quite tell how. He did not feel like a man who had been refused, but rather like one who had rashly thrust the vulgar questions of life into some mysterious intermediate region between earth and heaven. He had spoken earthly language to a creature, half idiot, half angel, whose spotless mind had no thoughts or impulses in it which could make it possible for her to understand him. He was half ashamed of himself, half solemnized as by a vision. As this impression wore off, however, which it did in time, Sir Alexis was not discouraged. He could not have her now; but one day he would have her, and his love was not of the hotly passionate kind which cannot wait. Perhaps, indeed, he wanted Innocent only as he would have wanted a lovely picture, a rare flower. He had never seen any one the least like her, and he did not require a helpmate or a companion; it was a supreme luxury, the rarest he could think of, that he wanted. And with such sentiments a man, especially when he is fifty, may be content to wait.
When Mrs. Eastwood heard the door close she came back anxiously to the drawing-room. Things had gone badly for Sir Alexis, she felt sure, from the mere fact that he had gone away. Innocent was about to step out again through the open window when her aunt came up to her. She laid her hand upon the girl’s shoulder, detaining her. Innocent had still her history-book clasped in one hand against her breast.
“Where is Sir Alexis?” said Mrs. Eastwood. “Have you sent him away?”
“Oh, no,” said Innocent, the gleam of intelligence which I have already described still brightening about her face, and changing for the moment into a kind of clever imbecility the usual pensive dreaminess of its expression. “He went away himself quite of his own will. And he was not angry. We are friends as much as ever.”
“Then you refused him, Innocent?”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘refused.’ I asked him not to ask you to make me go away. I don’t want to go away. Did you wish me to go?” the girl asked, with the old wistful look coming back into her face. It was the first time this thought had struck her, and a chill stole into her heart.
“No,” said Mrs. Eastwood, drawing her close. “I am glad you are not going, Innocent. Only it might have been better for you, my poor child. He is rich, and he is fond of you. He would have been very kind; he would have given you every advantage, more than I can give you. And if anything was to happen to me—— But you don’t understand such calculations. It would have been a comfort to have you settled,” said Mrs. Eastwood with a sigh.