Part 66 (1/2)
”I explained myself this morning on the pier.”
Surely, this was hard on me--after he had promised to give me till the end of the week to consider his proposal? I took my hand off his shoulder. He--who never used to displease or disappoint me when I was blind--had displeased and disappointed me for the second time in a few minutes!
”Do you wish to force me?” I asked, ”after telling me this morning that you would give me time to reflect?”
He rose, on his side--languidly and mechanically, like a man who neither knew nor cared what he was doing.
”Force you?” he repeated. ”Did I say that? I don't know what I am talking about; I don't know what I am doing. You are right and I am wrong. I am a miserable wretch, Lucilla--I am utterly unworthy of you. It would be better for you if you never saw me again!” He paused; and taking me by both hands, looked earnestly and sadly into my face. ”Good night, my dear!” he said--and suddenly dropped my hands, and turned away to go out.
I stopped him. ”Going already?” I said. ”It is not late yet.
”It is best for me to go.”
”Why?”
”I am in wretched spirits. It is better for me to be by myself.”
”Don't say that! It sounds like a reproach to me.”
”On the contrary, it is all my fault. Good night!”
I refused to say good night--I refused to let him go. His wanting to go was in itself a reproach to me. He had never done it before. I asked him to sit down again.
He shook his head.
”For ten minutes!”
He shook his head again.
”For five minutes!”
Instead of answering, he gently lifted a long lock of my hair, which hung at the side of my neck. (My head, I should add, had been dressed that evening on the old-fas.h.i.+oned plan, by my aunt's maid--to please my aunt.)
”If I stay for five minutes longer,” he said, ”I shall ask for something.”
”For what?”
”You have beautiful hair, Lucilla.”
”You can't want a lock of my hair, surely?”
”Why not?”
”I gave you a keepsake of that sort--ages ago. Have you forgotten it?”
[Note.--The keepsake had of course been given to the true Oscar, and was then, as it is now, still in his possession. Notice, when he recovers himself, how quickly the false Oscar infers this, and how cleverly he founds his excuse upon it.--P.]
His face flushed deep; his eyes dropped before mine. I could see that he was ashamed of himself--I could only conclude that he _had_ forgotten it!
A morsel of _his_ hair was, at that moment, in a locket which I wore round my neck. I had more I think, to doubt him than he had to doubt me.
I was so mortified that I stepped aside, and made way for him to go out.
”You wish to go away,” I said; ”I won't keep you any longer.”