“I’ve served him for forty years. I gave him all my youth, not because it was my duty, but because I loved him. Now someone needs me more than he does. My father is rich; he has a comfortable home, books and friends, and health. Herbert has nothing but me. If I take care of him, I may give him a few more years of life, and if he dies I can soothe his last days.”
Miss Langton spoke rapidly, with such determination that the elder woman saw it was useless to argue; her whole mind was set on this idea, and neither the persuasion of friends nor the entreaties of a father would hinder her.
“And what does the young man say to it?” asked Miss Ley.
“The thought has never entered his head. He looks upon me as a middle-aged woman to whom all things of love are absurd. Sometimes he’s laughed at me because I’m so practical and matter-of-fact.”
“Where is he?”
Before Bella could answer there was a ring at the door, and they heard Herbert ask the butler if Miss Langton had come in.
“There he is!” cried Bella. “Let me go to him now, Mary. He’s going up to the drawing-room. Oh, I feel so dreadfully nervous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bella,” answered Miss Ley, smiling. “I’ve never seen a woman about to propose marriage to the object of her affections who was quite so self-possessed as you.”
But at the door Miss Langton stopped, and with a very piteous expression looked at her friend.
“Oh, I wish I weren’t so old, Mary. Tell me honestly, am I awfully plain?”