"I paddle my own canoe" dies away in the distance; apparently it was on its way to dress for dinner. Esther draws a sigh of relief. "I thought that some one was coming." "And if they had?" "Why, I did not relish the idea of being found driven into a corner, like a child at a dame's school, and you, like the dame, standing over me," answers she, abandoning the struggle with the corners of her mouth, and bubbling over with the facile laughter of seventeen. Utterly unable to join in her merriment, he stands leaning in awkward misery against the wall; all other griefs are at least respectable; love-sorrows, alone, are only ludicrous. "It really is so silly," says Esther, presently, compassionate but impatient. "Do try and get the better of it!" "Easier said than done," he answers ruefully. "I might as well advise you to get the better of your affection for Jack." "I don't see the parallel," rejoined she, coldly, feeling as if there was sacrilege in the comparison. "My love for Jack is a natural instinct, built too upon the foundation of lifelong obligations, endless benefits, countless kindnesses. What kindness have I ever shown you? I sewed a button on your glove once, and once I pinned a rose on your coat." "I have the rose still." She says "Pshaw!" pettishly, and turns away her head. "Perhaps you are afraid of marrying on small means?" suggests Brandon, diffidently, after a while. The gentle clatter and click of dishes carried into the dining-room enters faintly through the shut door. Esther's heart sinks within her. Is he going to begin all over again?—round and round, like a thunderstorm among hills? "I am afraid of marrying on any means," she says, comprehensively. "I particularly dislike the idea; marriage seems to me the end of everything, and I am at the beginning." "But I don't want you to marry me now," cries Robert, stammering. "Don't you? You told me just now that you did." "For pity's sake, Esther, don't laugh! it may be play to you, but it is death to me." "I'm not laughing."
Prev.
Back
Top