"You don't know what lies before you," he said, gravely, "if you think of battling single-handed against the crowds of London. You don't know the thousands who are far more eager in the fight for bread than you are; because you haven't experienced the necessity yet——"
"I have fought for my bread ever since my poor mother died," she said.
"With exceptional advantages, and these you now abandon. My dear Miss Brunel," he added, earnestly, "you don't know what you're doing. I shudder to think of the future that you seem to have chalked out for yourself. On the other hand, I see a probable future for you in which you would not have to depend upon any one for your support; you would be independent of those people whom you profess to dislike; you would be rich, happy, with plenty of amusement, nothing to trouble you, and you would also secure a pleasant home for Mrs. Christmas——"
"Have you imagined all that out of one of these advertisements?" she asked, with a smile.
"No, Miss Brunel," said the Count, whose earnestness gave him an eloquence which certainly did not often characterise his speech. "Can't you guess what I mean? I am sure you know how I esteem you—you must have seen it—and perhaps you guessed what feelings lay behind that—and—and—now you are alone, as it were, you have no friends—why not accept my home, and become my wife?"
"Your wife?" she repeated, suddenly becoming quite grave, and looking down.
"Yes," he said, delighted to find that she did not get up in a towering passion, as he had seen so many ladies do, under similar circumstances, on the stage. "I hope you do not feel offended. I have spoken too abruptly, perhaps—but now it is out, let me beg of you to listen to me. Look at this, Miss Brunel, fairly: I don't think I have an unkind disposition—I am sincerely attached to you—you are alone, as I say, with scarcely a friend—we have many tastes in common, and as I should have nothing to do but invent amusements for you, I think we should lead an agreeable life. I am not a very young man, but on the other hand I haven't my way to make in the world. You don't like the stage. I am glad of it. It assures me that if you would only think well of my proposal, we should lead a very agreeable life. I'm sure we should have a pleasant agreeable life; for, after all,—it is absurd to mention this just now, perhaps—but one has a good deal of latitude in 30,000*l.* a year—and you don't have to trouble your mind—and if the most devoted affection can make you happy, then happy you'll be."
Annie Brunel sate quite silent, and not very much affected or put out. She had been in good spirits all the morning, had been nerving herself for a heroic and cheerful view of the future; and now here was something to engage her imagination! There is no woman in the world, whatever her training may have been, who, under such circumstances, and with such a picturesque offer held out to her, would refuse at least to regard and try to realise the prospect.
"You are very kind," she said, "to do me so much honour. But you are too kind. You wish to prevent my being subjected to the hardships of being poor and having to work for a living, and you think the easiest way to do that is to make me the mistress of all your money——"
"I declare, Miss Brunel, you wrong me," said the Count, warmly. "Money has nothing to do with it. I mentioned these things as inducements—unwisely, perhaps. Indeed it has nothing to do with it. Won't you believe me when I say that I could hope for no greater fortune and blessing in the world, if neither you nor I had a farthing of money, than to make you my wife?"