Glory of Youth | Page 6

her, "come here."
Some new note in his voice made her cheeks flame, but she obeyed him. He took both of her hands in his. "I've been thinking of you, and your future. Somehow I can't see you, a little slip of a thing like you, being beaten and bruised by the hard things of life. The world is cruel and you are so--sweet. You need some one to take care of you----"
"Yes," she whispered; "but there isn't any one."
"Except me. And I'm such an old fellow--years too old for you. But I'm alone, and you're alone. Could I make you happy, Betty child?"
She stared at him, all the bright color gone from her face.
"Why, how?" Her voice fluttered and died.
"As my wife. There's the big house on the rocks that I am building."
He faltered. The great house had been built for Diana, on a sudden hopeful impulse that when it was finished she would consent to be its mistress.
"There's the big house," he went on, after a moment, "and there's money enough and to spare. Not that I want you to marry me for that, but I think I could comfort you in your loneliness, Bettina."
In her secluded girlhood there had been no opportunity for masculine adoration; hence there seemed nothing lacking when this man of men, whose coming during her mother's illness had made the one bright spot in her day, whose sympathy had comforted her in her sorrow, whose friendship had sustained her in the months which had followed her great loss, when he spoke of marriage with never a word of love.
"But I'm not wise enough or good enough," she said, with a quick catch of her breath.
He drew her to him, holding her gently.
"Would you like," he asked, "would you like to think that all your life I should take care of you?"
She lay quietly, not answering for a while, then she whispered, "Do you really want me?"
Perhaps his arm relaxed a little, but his voice was very steady. "I really want to make you happy."
"And you'll let me love you with all my heart?" Her eyes were hidden.
He put his hand against the softness of her hair, turning her face up toward him. "I shall hope that you may love me with all your heart, and that I may be worthy of it."
Her hand crept up and touched his cheek. "Kiss me," she whispered, like a child.
He would have been less than a man if his heart had not leaped a little, if he had not responded to the love call of this wistful white and gold woman creature.
"My dear," he said, brokenly, and bent his head.
On the foggy streets below men and women passed and repassed like ghosts in the stillness. Little Miss Matthews, meeting Captain Stubbs on a street corner, was unconscious of his nearness until the little captain, guided by that sixth sense, which is given to sailors for their protection at sea, hailed her.
"You needn't hurry home," he told her; "that Betty child don't want you. Dr. Blake is there. That's his car."
"He was there yesterday," said Miss Matthews, disturbed by the doctor's departure from his usual routine.
"And he'll probably be there to-morrow; he's getting sweet on that Betty child, Miss Mattie."
"Oh, dear, no," said the shocked Miss Matthews. "Why, he's in love with Diana Gregory."
The captain gazed at her blankly. "You don't mean it," he protested.
"Yes, I do," said Miss Matthews; "they've known each other all their lives. But she doesn't want to settle down."
"Well, she'd better look out," said the little captain; "men won't wait forever."
"Men like Anthony Blake," returned Miss Matthews with conviction, "will. And as for Bettina, she's nothing but a child!"
The little captain carried the conversation over, tactfully, to his favorite topic. "I want you and that Betty child to go with me for a day's fishin' soon," he said; "you just name the day."
Little Miss Matthews hated the sea, with the hatred of a woman whose ancestors had made their living on the Banks and had been drowned in storms. But she liked the captain. "I am sure you are very kind," she said, primly, "but it will have to be Saturday when there isn't any school."
"All right," said the captain,--"make it a week from Saturday, and we'll probably have clearing weather."
The doctor, going down, met little Miss Matthews. Bettina, leaning over the rail, greeted the little lady somewhat self-consciously. "I'll make your tea in a minute," she said; "the doctor didn't want any."
When Anthony reached the bottom of the stair, he looked up. The faint light of the lantern drew a circle of radiance about Bettina's head.
"Wait," she called softly, and came down to him, and in the darkness whispered that she was happy, so very happy--and would she see him soon?
"To-morrow," he promised,