A Simpleton | Page 5

MUST have--a little. When I
refused Colonel Bright--you need not devour my hand quite--he is
forty."
Her sentence ended, and away went the original topic, and grammatical
sequence along with it. Christopher Staines recaptured them both. "Yes,
dear, when you refused Colonel Bright"--
"Well, papa was astonished; for everybody says the colonel is a most
eligible match. Don't you hate that expression? I do. Eligible!"
Christopher made due haste, and recaptured her. "Yes, love, your papa
said"--
"I don't think I will tell you. He asked me was there anybody else; and
of course I said 'No.'"
"Oh!"
"Oh, that is nothing; I had not time to make up my mind to tell the truth.
I was taken by surprise; and you know one's first impulse is to
fib--about THAT."
"But did you really deceive him?"
"No, I blushed; and he caught me; so he said, 'Come, now, there was.'"
"And you said, 'Yes, there is,' like a brave girl as you are."
"What, plump like that? No, I was frightened out of my wits, like a
brave girl as I am not, and said I should never marry any one he could
disapprove; and then--oh, then I believe I began to cry. Christopher, I'll
tell you something; I find people leave off teasing you when you
cry--gentlemen, I mean. Ladies go on all the more. So then dear papa
kissed me, and told me I must not be imprudent, and throw myself
away, that was all; and I promised him I never would. I said he would
be sure to approve my choice; and he said he hoped so. And so he
will."
Dr. Staines looked thoughtful, and said he hoped so too. "But now it
comes to the point of asking him for such a treasure, I feel my
deficiencies."
"Why, what deficiencies? You are young, and handsome, and good,
and ever so much cleverer than other people. You have only to ask for

me, and insist on having me. Come, dear, go and get it over." She
added, mighty coolly, "There is nothing so DREADFUL as suspense."
"I'll go this minute," said he, and took a step towards the door; but he
turned, and in a moment was at her knees. He took both her hands in
his, and pressed them to his beating bosom, while his beautiful eyes
poured love into hers point-blank. "May I tell him you love me? Oh, I
know you cannot love me as I love you; but I may say you love me a
little, may I not?--that will go farther with him than anything else. May
I, Rosa, may I?--a little?"
His passion mastered her. She dropped her head sweetly on his
shoulder, and murmured, "You know you may, my own. Who would
not love you?"
He parted lingeringly from her, then marched away, bold with love and
hope, to demand her hand in marriage.
Rosa leaned back in her chair, and quivered a little with new emotions.
Christopher was right; she was not capable of loving like him; but still
the actual contact of so strong a passion made her woman's nature
vibrate. A dewy tear hung on the fringes of her long lashes, and she
leaned back in her chair and fluttered awhile.
That emotion, almost new to her, soon yielded, in her girlish mind, to a
complacent languor; and that, in its turn, to a soft reverie. So she was
going to be married! To be mistress of a house; settle in London
(THAT she had quite determined long ago); be able to go out into the
streets all alone, to shop, or visit; have a gentleman all her own, whom
she could put her finger on any moment and make him take her about,
even to the opera and the theatre; to give dinner-parties her own self,
and even a little ball once in a way; to buy whatever dresses she
thought proper, instead of being crippled by an allowance; have the
legal right of speaking first in society, even to gentlemen rich in ideas
but bad starters, instead of sitting mumchance and mock-modest; to be
Mistress, instead of Miss--contemptible title; to be a woman, instead of
a girl; and all this rational liberty, domestic power, and social dignity
were to be obtained by merely wedding a dear fellow, who loved her,
and was so nice; and the bright career to be ushered in with several
delights, each of them dear to a girl's very soul: presents from all her
friends; as many beautiful new dresses as if she was changing her body
or her hemisphere, instead of her name; eclat; going to church, which is

a good English girl's theatre of display and temple of vanity, and there
tasting delightful publicity and whispered admiration, in a heavenly