A Young Man in a Hurry, and Other Short Stories

“Thank you,” said Miss Castle; “that is very generous of you, because you are deliberately sacrificing the club loving-cup if I catch that fish.”

He said, laughing: “I’ve held the cup before. Try it, Miss Castle; that is a five-pound fish, and the record this spring is four and a half.”

She took the rod; he went first and she held out her hand so that he could steady her across the stones and out into the dusk.

“My skirts are soaked with the dew, anyway,” she said. “I don’t mind a wetting.”

He unslung his landing-net and waited ready; she sent the line whirling into the darkness.

“To the right,” he said.

For ten minutes she stood there casting in silence. Once a splash in the shadows set his nerves quivering, but it was only a muskrat.

“By-the-way,” she said, quietly, over her shoulder, “I know why you and I have met here.”

And as Crawford said nothing she reeled in her line, and held out her hand to him as a signal that she wished to come ashore.

He aided her, taking the rod and guiding her carefully across the dusky stepping-stones to the bank.

She shook out her damp skirts, then raised her face, which had grown a trifle pale.

“I will marry you, Mr. Crawford,” she said, bravely, – “and I hope you will make me love you. Mr. Garcide wishes it… I understand … that you wish it. You must not feel embarrassed, … nor let me feel embarrassed. Come and talk it over. Shall we?”

There was a rustic seat on the river-bank; she sat down in one corner.

His face was in shadow; he had dropped his rod and landing-net abruptly. And now he took an uncertain step towards her and sat down at her side.

“I want you to make me love you,” she said, frankly; “I hope you will; I shall do all I can to help you. But – unless I do – will you remember that? – I do not love you.” As he was silent, she went on: “Take me as a comrade; I will go where you wish. I am really a good comrade; I can do what men do. You shall see! It will be pleasant, I think.”

After a little while he spoke in a low voice which was not perfectly steady: “Miss Castle, I am going to tell you something which you must know. I do not believe that Mr. Garcide has authorized me to offer myself to you.”

“He told me that he desired it,” she said. “That is why he brought us together. And he also said,” she added, hastily, “that you were somewhat bashful. So I thought it best to make it easy for us both. I hope I have.”

Crawford sat motionless for a long while. At last he passed his hands over his eyes, leaning forward and looking into her face.

“I’ve simply got to be honest with you,” he said; “I know there is a mistake.”

“No, there is no mistake,” she said, bending her head and looking him in the eyes – “unless you have made the mistake – unless,” she said, quickly – “you do not want me.”

“Want you!” he stammered, catching fire of a sudden – “want you, you beautiful child! I love you if ever man loved on earth! Want you?” His hand fell heavily on hers, and closed. For an instant their palms lay close together; her heart almost stopped; then a swift flame flew to her face and she struggled to withdraw her fingers twisted in his.

“You must not do that,” she said, breathlessly. “I do not love you – I warned you!”

He said: “You must love me! Can’t you understand? You made me love you – you made me! Listen to me – it is all a mistake – but it is too late now. I did not dare even think of you – I have simply got to tell you the truth – I did not dare think of you – I must say it – and I can’t understand how I could ever have seen you and not loved you. But when you spoke – when I touched you – ”

“Please, please,” she said, faintly, “let me go! It is not a mistake; I – I am glad that you love me; I will try to love you. I want to – I believe I can – ”

“You must!”

“Yes, … I will… Please let me go!”

Breathless and crimson, she fell back into her corner, staring at him. He dropped his arm on the back of the rustic seat.

Presently he laughed uncertainly, and struck his forehead with his open hand.

“It’s a mistake,” he said; “and if it is a mistake, Heaven help the other man!”

She watched him with curious dismay. Never could she have believed that the touch of a man’s hand could thrill her; never had she imagined that the words of a man could set her heart leaping to meet his stammered vows. A new shame set her very limbs quaking as she strove to rise. The distress in her eyes, the new fear, the pitiful shyness, called to him for mercy.

For a miracle he understood the mute appeal, and he took her hand in his quietly and bade her good-night, saying he would stay and smoke awhile.

“Good-night,” she said; “I am really tired. I would rather you stayed here. Do you mind?”

“No,” he said.

“Then I shall go back alone.”

He watched her across the lawn. When she had gone half-way, she looked back and saw him standing there in the moonlight.

And that night, as her little silver hand-glass reflected her brilliant cheeks, she veiled her face in her bright hair and knelt down by her bedside.

But all she could say was, “I love him – truly I love him!” which was one kind of prayer, after all.

IV

A deep, sweet happiness awoke her ere the earliest robin chirped. Never since the first pink light touched Eden had such a rosy day dawned for any maid on earth.

She awoke in love; her enchanted eyes unclosed on a world she had never known.

Unashamed, she held out her arms to the waking world and spoke her lover’s name aloud. Then the young blood leaped in her, and her eyes were like stars after a rain.

Oh, she must hasten now, for there was so little time to live in the world, and every second counted. Healthy of body, wholesome of soul, innocent and ardent in her new-born happiness, she could scarcely endure the rush of golden moments lost in an impetuous bath, in twisting up her bright hair, in the quick knotting of a ribbon, the click of a buckle on knee and shoe.

Then, as she slipped down the stairs into the darkened hall, trepidation seized her, for she heard his step.

He came swinging along the hallway; she stood still, trembling. He came up quickly and took her hands; she did not move; his arm encircled her waist; he lifted her head; it lay back on his shoulder, and her eyes met his.

“All day together,” he was saying; and her soul leaped to meet his words, but she could not speak.

He held her at arms’-length, laughing, a little troubled.

“Mystery of mysteries,” he said, under his breath; “there is some blessed Heaven-directed mistake in this. Is there, sweetheart?”

“No,” she said.

“And if there was?”

“Can you ask?”