Truthful Jane. Florence Morse Kingsley

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СКАЧАТЬ chilly little fingers with extreme nonchalance.

      The Honorable Wipplinger was evidently somewhat agitated in a perfunctory, elderly way. That he was likewise perfectly confident as to the outcome of the interview Jane thought she perceived, with an involuntary deepening of the dimple at the corner of her mouth.

      "Hum—ah," he began, fixing his glass firmly in place. "You were not dining at home this evening, Miss Blythe? I was—er—frightfully disappointed, upon my word; I had been—ah—led to expect—ah—that is, I hoped that I should see you earlier in the evening."

      "I never come down when Aunt Agatha has guests," said Jane, putting her pretty head on one side and gazing at her elderly suitor contemplatively. He was quite as old as Uncle Robert, she decided, and sufficiently ugly to look at, with his bald head and his tall, square-shouldered figure. For the rest, the Hon. Wipplinger Towle was possessed of a stubborn-looking chin, deep-set gray eyes, and a well-cut mouth, amply furnished with strong white teeth.

      Jane gently shrugged her shoulders as she dropped her bright eyes to her lap. "I fancy I should have starved if it hadn't been for Susan," she finished.

      Mr. Towle glanced at her quickly. "Hum—ah, Susan?" he hesitated; "and who, if I may ask, is Susan?"

      "Susan is the under housemaid," replied Jane sweetly. "She brought me up some supper on a tray. Wasn't it nice of her?"

      Mr. Towle made several small uncertain sounds in his throat, which resembled—Jane reflected—the noises made by an ancient clock on the point of striking. Then he stared hard at Jane, again adjusting his monocle. "Hum—ah, Miss Blythe," he began, "I—er—in point of fact, I have the very great honor to be permitted to pay you my addresses, and so——"

      Jane turned pale. "Please don't mention it," she interrupted.

      "I beg your pardon," observed Mr. Towle interrogatively, "you were saying——"

      "I said, please don't talk about it. I—I couldn't, you know; though I'm sure it's very kind—at least, Uncle Robert said it was— A compliment, I believe he called it."

      "One I am—er—delighted to pay to so lovely a creature as yourself," murmured Mr. Towle laboriously.

      "How dare you say such a silly thing to me!" snapped Jane, her hazel eyes blazing. "I'm not a lovely creature, and I won't be called so."

      "Why—er—I beg your pardon, I'm sure," stuttered the abashed suitor. "But I have the full permission of Lady Agatha and Mr. Aubrey-Blythe, and I thought— But surely you cannot have understood that I"—welling visibly with a sense of his own importance, Jane was resentfully sure—"desire to make you my wife. I wish you, in short, to make me the happiest man in London by—er—becoming Mrs. Towle. And may I, my dear Miss Aubrey-Blythe, beg you to name an early day—a very early day for the celebration of our nuptials. The matter of settlements and all that can be quickly arranged; and I beg to assure you that they shall be satisfactory—quite satisfactory, as I have already taken the pains to assure your uncle, Mr. Aubrey-Blythe. I can, in short, afford to be generous, and—er—I desire to be so."

      Mr. Towle paused in his halting discourse to draw a small box from his waistcoat pocket. Jane watched him in fascinated silence as he opened it and drew from its satin nest a hoop of diamonds.

      "I hope you will allow me," murmured the Honorable Wipplinger, bending forward.

      "No!" cried Jane. "I say no!" She stood up, very pale and unapproachable. "I ought not to have allowed you to say all this to me," she said. "I do thank you for wanting me to marry you; but, of course, it is impossible."

      "Why do you say 'of course'?" asked Mr. Towle, in a surprisingly human voice. "Do you enjoy your life here so much?"

      "No," said Jane, "I do not; but I'll not marry to escape from it."

      The Honorable Wipplinger deliberately returned the hoop of diamonds to its nest, snapped the lid of the box shut, and slipped it back into his waistcoat pocket. "I didn't go at it right," he observed meditatively. "Robert should have warned me." He turned to Jane once more. "Do you—er—mind telling me just why you have turned me down so squarely?"

      "I'd much rather not," said Jane, blushing. "You wouldn't like it."

      "Oh, yes, I should. For one thing, you think I'm horribly old; don't you?"

      "Well, you are; aren't you?"

      "Not so very. I lost my hair in a beastly fever I had in India ten years ago, and it would never grow on top after that. As a matter of fact I'm only forty."

      "Forty!" repeated Jane, in an indescribable voice. "Why that—" She stopped short. "I'd much better say good night at once," she said contritely, "and—and truly I do thank you. I didn't suppose anyone in the world would ever care about me. And you——"

      "I certainly do," said Mr. Towle resignedly. "But I went about saying it like a jackass. To tell you the honest truth I was in a regular blue funk. I never proposed marriage to a woman before, and I never shall again. Of course, you don't know me very well, Miss Blythe; but I'm a whole lot nicer than I look. If you only could——"

      Jane shook her head decidedly. "I'd like you awfully well for—for an uncle," she said regretfully, "or a—grandfather— There! I oughtn't to have said that. You're really not old enough for a grandfather. But mine are both dead, and I've always thought it would be lovely to have one."

      Mr. Towle swallowed hard. "Go on," he said encouragingly, "you'd like me well enough for a—a grandfather, but not for a husband. Is that what you meant to say?"

      "It wasn't a bit nice of me to say it; but then I'm always saying dreadful things. That is why"—dejectedly—"nobody likes me."

      The Hon. Wipplinger Towle gazed down at the little figure with a very kind look indeed in his deep-set gray eyes. "Oh, well," he said, "I might have known better. I did know better, in fact. But from something Lady Agatha said to me I fancied that perhaps I—that perhaps you——"

      Jane held out her hand. "Good night," she said.

      Mr. Towle took the offered hand in his very gently. It was cold, and the small fingers trembled a little in his own big, warm palm. "Good night," he said; "I can't—by force of cruel circumstances—be your—er—grandfather; but I'd like to be your friend, Jane; may I?"

      "Why, yes," said Jane, smiling up into the keen gray eyes, "you may. And—and I thank you a whole lot for being so—game."

CHAPTER IV

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      Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe looked up from the housekeeper's book which she was inspecting with displeased interest, and turned her light blue eyes upon her husband's niece, as she stood a forlorn yet rigidly defiant little figure, her back against the closed door. "You may come in, Jane, and sit down," said Lady Agatha, in precisely the same tone she would have used to a delinquent housemaid.

      Jane advanced and sat down, every line of her face and figure expressing an exasperating indifference to the stately hauteur of the lady, who on her part proceeded to concentrate her entire attention upon a bundle of СКАЧАТЬ