Looking down on her I could see, beneath a confusion of black
eyelashes and dark eyebrow, that the blue eyes looked straight out
in front of her, her arm lay along the wicker side-rest of the
chair, languid, indolent, relaxed.
"But why?" I said. "Why not at once? Tell me."
She was silent for some time, then she said,--
"When I came to you last year I urged our marriage, and you said it
could not be; now you urge it, and I say it cannot be. That's all."
I bit my lips suddenly, and I was glad she was not looking at me. I
was silent, too, for a minute; then I said,--
"But surely you are not thinking of punishing me for that; of
avenging yourself? You knew all the circumstances, and you
acquiesced in my decision. You would not now think of revenge--it is
so unlike you!"
"Oh no, no! You misunderstood me. How can you think I should occupy
myself with a ridiculous, petty idea of revenge?" and she laughed a
slight, fatigued laugh. "No, I merely meant that Chance had so
arranged it."
"But how, then? There is no obstacle now."
"Not on your side; no."
"Then what is it, dearest, on yours?"
She did not answer me for a long time, and then it was seemingly
with reluctance, and a slight flush crept into her pale face as she
said merely the two words,--
"My health."
I hardly know exactly what sensation her answer roused in me, but I
think it was nearer relief than any other.
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