Dawn: Chapter 63
Chapter 63
"Then you will not marry now, Mildred?" said Arthur, after a pause.
"No, Arthur."
"No one?"
"No one, Arthur."
He rose, and, leaning over the railing of the verandah, looked at the
sea. The mist that hid it was drifting and eddying hither and thither
before little puffs of wind, and the clear sky was clouding up.
"There is going to be a storm," he said, presently.
"Yes, I think so, the air feels like it."
He hesitated a while, and looked down at her. She seemed very lovely
in the half lights, as indeed she was. She, too, looked up at him
inquiringly. At last he spoke.
"Mildred, you said just now that you would not marry anybody. Will you
make an exception?--will you marry me?"
It was her turn to pause now.
"You are very good," she murmured.
"No, I am not at all good. You know how the case stands. You know that
I still love Angela, and that I shall in all probability always love
her. I cannot help that. But if you will have me, Mildred, I will try
to be a good husband to you, and to make you happy. Will you marry me,
dear?"
"No, Arthur."
"Why not? Have you, then, ceased to care for me?"
"No, dear. I love you more than ever. You cannot dream how much I do
love you."
"Then why will you not marry me? Is it because of this business?"
"No," and raising herself in the low chair, she looked at him with
intense earnestness, "that is not the reason. I will not marry you,
because I have become a better woman since you went away, because I do
not wish to ruin your life. You ask me to do so now in all sincerity,
but you do not know what you ask. You come from the scene of as bitter
a disappointment as can befall a man, and you are a little touched by
the contrasting warmth of your reception here, a little moved by my
evident interest, and perhaps a little influenced by my good looks,
though _they_ are nothing much. Supposing that I consented, supposing
I said, 'Arthur, I will put my hand in yours and be your wife,' and
that we were married to-morrow, do you think, when the freshness of
the thing had worn off, that you would be happy with me? I do not. You
would soon get horribly tired of me, Arthur, for the little leaven
that leavens the whole lump is wanting. You do not love me; and the
redundance of my affection would weary you, and, for my part, I should
find it difficult to continually struggle against an impalpable rival,
though, indeed, I should be very willing to put up with that."
"I am sorry you think so."
"Yes, Arthur, I do think so; but you do not know what it costs me to
say it. I am deliberately shutting the door which bars me from my
heaven; I am throwing away the chance I strove so hard to win. That
will tell you how much I think it. Do you know, I must be a strange
contradiction. When I knew you were engaged to another woman, I
strained my every nerve to win you from her. While the object was
still to be gained, I felt no compunction; I was fettered by no
scruples. I wanted to steal you from her and marry you myself. But now
that all this is changed, and that you of your own free will come and
offer to make me your wife, I for the first time feel how wrong it
would be of me to take advantage of you in a moment of pique and
disappointment, and bind you for life to a nature which you do not
really understand, to a violent and a jealous woman. Too late, when
your life was hampered and your future spoiled, you would discover
that you hated me. Arthur dear, I will not consent to bind you to me
by any tie that cannot be broken."
"Hush, Mildred! you should not say such things about yourself. If you
are as violent and jealous as you say, you are also a very noble-
hearted woman, for none other would so sacrifice herself. Perhaps you
are right; I do not know. But, whether you are right or wrong, I
cannot tell you how you have made me respect you."
"Dear, those are the most comfortable words I have ever heard; after
what has passed between us, I scarcely thought to win your respect."
"Then you will not marry me, Mildred?"
"No."
"That is your fixed determination?"
"It is."
"Ah, well!" he sighed, "I suppose that I had better 'top my boom'
again?"
"Do what?"
"I mean I had better leave Madeira."
"Why should you leave Madeira?"
He hesitated a little before replying.
"Well, because if I do not marry you, and still come here, people will
talk. They did before, you know."
"Are you afraid of being talked about, then?"
"I? Oh! dear no. What can it matter to me now?"
"And supposing I were to tell you that what 'people' say, with or
without foundation, is as much a matter of indifference to me as the
blowing of next summer's breezes, would you still consider it
necessary to leave Madeira?"
"I don't know."
He again rose and leant over the verandah rail.
"It is going to be a wild night," he said, presently.
"Yes; the wind will spoil all the magnolias. Pick me that bud; it is
too good to be wasted."
He obeyed, and, just as he stepped back on to the verandah, a fierce
rush of wind came up from the sea, and went howling away behind them.
"I love a storm," she murmured, as he brought the flower to her. "It
makes me feel so strong," and she stretched out her perfect arms as
though to catch the wind.
"What am I to do with this magnolia?"
"Give it to me. I will pin it in my dress--no, do you fasten it for
me."
The chair in which she was lounging was so low that, to do as she bade
him, Arthur was forced to kneel beside her. Kneeling thus, the sweet,
upturned face was but just beneath his own; the breath from the curved
lips played amongst his hair, and again there crept over him that
feeling of fascination, of utter helplessness, that he had once before
resisted. But this time he did not attempt to resist, and no vision
came to save him. Slowly drawn by the beauty of her tender eyes, he
yielded to the spell, and soon her lips were pressed upon his own, and
the white arms had closed around his neck, whilst the crushed magnolia
bloom shed its perfume round them.
Fiercer swept the storm, the lightning flashed, and the gale catching
the crests of the rising waves dashed them in spray to where they sat.
"Dear," he said presently, "you must not stop here, the spray is
wetting you."
"I wish that it would drown me," she answered, almost fiercely, "I
shall never be so happy again. You think that you love me now; I
should like to die before you learn to hate me. Come, let us go in!"