[31] I assured him I was not the least complex, and that I only wanted everything simple, and to be left in peace, without having to get married, or worry to obey people. We had a nice talk. “You won’t leave here on Saturday,” he said, presently, apropos of nothing. “I do not think I shall go myself, to-morrow. I want you to show me all over the gardens, and your favourite haunts.” “To-morrow I shall be busy packing,” I said, gravely, “and I do not think I want to show you the gardens—there are some corners I rather loved—I believe it will hurt a little to say good-bye.” Just then Mr. Barton came into the room, fussy and ill at ease. Mr. Carruthers’ face hardened again, and I rose to say good-night. As he opened the door for me: “Promise you will come down to give me my coffee in the morning,” he said. “Qui vivra verra,” I answered, and sauntered out into the hall. He followed me, and watched as I went up the staircase. [32] [32] “Good-night!” I called softly, as I got to the top, and laughed a little—I don’t know why. He bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time, and before I could turn the handle of my door, he stood beside me. “I do not know what there is about you,” he said, “but you drive me mad—I shall insist upon carrying out my aunt’s wish after all! I shall marry you, and never let you out of my sight—do you hear?” Oh! such a strange sense of exaltation crept over me—it is with me still! Of course he probably will not mean all that to-morrow, but to have made such a stiff block of stone rush upstairs, and say this much now is perfectly delightful! I looked at him up from under my eyelashes. “No, you will not marry me,” I said, calmly; “or do anything else I don’t like, and now really good-night!” and I slipped into my room, and closed the door. I could hear he did not stir for some seconds. Then he went off down the stairs again, and I am alone with my thoughts. [33] [33] My thoughts! I wonder what they mean.
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