Celibates | Page 7

you, Mildred.'
She looked at him a little tenderly, and he continued more confidently. 'But I'm glad to say there is no longer any question of waiting. My father has consented to settle four hundred a year upon me, the same sum as your brother proposes to settle on you. We can be married when you like.'
She only looked at the spoilt water-colour, and it was with difficulty that Alfred restrained himself from snatching it out of her hands.
'You do not answer. You heard what I said, that my father had agreed to settle four hundred a year upon me?'
'I'm sure I'm very glad, for your sake.'
'That's a very cold answer, Mildred. I think I can say that I'm sure of the appointment.'
'I'm glad, indeed I am, Alfred.'
'But only for my sake?'
Mildred sat looking at the water-colour.
'You see our marriage has been delayed so long; many things have come between us.'
'What things?'
'Much that I'm afraid you'd not understand. You've often reproached me,' she said, her voice quickening a little, 'with coldness. I'm cold; it is not my fault. I'm afraid I'm not like other girls. ... I don't think I want to be married.'
'This is Mrs. Fargus' doing. What do you want?'
'I'm not quite sure. I should like to study.'
'This must be Mrs. Fargus.'
'I should like to do something.'
'But marriage--'
'Marriage is not everything. There are other things. I should like to study art.'
'But marriage won't prevent your studying art.'
'I want to go away, to leave Sutton. I should like to travel.'
'But we should travel--our honeymoon.'
'I don't think I could give up my freedom, Alfred; I've thought it all over. I'm afraid I'm not the wife for you.'
'Some one else has come between us? Some one richer. Who's this other fellow?'
'No; there's no one else. I assure you there's no one else. I don't think I shall marry at all. There are other things besides marriage.... I'm not fitted for marriage. I'm not strong. I don't think I could have children. It would kill me.'
'All this is the result of Mrs. Fargus. I can read her ideas in every word you say. Women like Mrs. Fargus ought to be ducked in the horse- pond. They're a curse.'
Mildred smiled.
'You're as strong as other girls. I never heard of anything being the matter with you. You're rather thin, that's all. You ought to go away for a change of air. I never heard such things; a young girl who has been brought up like you. I don't know what Harold would say--not fitted for marriage; not strong enough to bear children. What conversations you must have had with Mrs. Fargus; studying art, and the rest of it. Really, Mildred, I did not think a young girl ever thought of such things.'
'We cannot discuss the subject. We had better let it drop.'
'Yes,' he said, 'we'd better say no more; the least said the soonest mended. You're ill, you don't know what you're saying. You're not looking well; you've been brooding over things. You'd better go away for a change. When you come back you'll think differently.'
'Go away for a change! Yes,' she said, 'I've been thinking over things and am not feeling well. But I know my own mind now. I can never love you as I should like to.'
'Then you'd like to love me. Ah, I will make you love me.. I'll teach you to love me! Only give me the chance.'
'I don't think I shall ever love--at least, not as other girls do.'
He leaned forward and took her hand; he caught her other hand, and the movement expressed his belief in his power to make her love him.
'No,' she said, resisting him. 'You cannot. I'm as cold as ice.'
'Think what you're doing, Mildred. You're sacrificing a great love-- (no man will ever love you as I do)--and for a lot of stuff about education that Mrs. Fargus has filled your head with. You're sacrificing your life for that,' he said, pointing to the sketch that had fallen on the grass. 'Is it worth it?'
She picked up the sketch.
'It was better before you came,' she said, examining it absent- mindedly. 'I went on working at it; I've spoiled it.' Then, noticing the incongruity, she added, 'But it doesn't matter. Art is not the only thing in the world. There is good to be done if one only knew how to do it. I don't mean charity, such goodness is only on the surface, it is merely a short cut to the real true goodness. Art may be only selfishness, indeed I'm inclined to think it is, but art is education, not the best, perhaps, but the best within my reach.'
'Mildred, I really do not understand. You cannot be well, or you wouldn't talk so.'
'I'm quite well,' she said. 'I hardly expected you would understand.