North of Fifty-Three | Page 6

stammered. She was just the least bit frightened. The man who stared at her with burning eyes and spoke to her in a voice that quivered with emotion was so different from the calm, repressed individual she had known as her employer. "Why, you're----" The thing that was uppermost in her mind, and what she came near saying, was: "You're old enough to be my father." And beside him there instantly flashed a vision of Jack Barrow. Of course it was absurd--even though she appreciated the honor. But she did not finish the sentence that way. "I don't--oh, it's simply impossible. I couldn't think of such a thing."
"Why not?" he asked. "I love you. You know that--you can see it, can't you?" He leaned a little nearer, and forced her to meet his gaze. "I can make you happy; I can make you love me. I can give you all that a woman could ask."
"Yes, but--"
He interrupted her quickly. "Perhaps I've surprised and confused you by my impulsiveness," he continued. "But I've had no chance to meet you socially. Sitting here in the office, seeing you day after day, I've had to hold myself in check. And a man only does that so long, and no longer. Perhaps right now you don't feel as I do, but I can teach you to feel that way. I can give you everything--money, social position, everything that's worth having--and love. I'm not an empty-headed boy. I can make you love me."
"You couldn't," Hazel answered flatly. There was a note of dominance in that last statement that jarred on her. Mr. Bush was too sure of his powers. "And I have no desire to experiment with my feelings as you suggest--not for all the wealth and social position in the world. I would have to love a man to think of marrying him--and I do. But you aren't the man. I appreciate the compliment of your offer, and I'm sorry to hurt you, but I can't marry you."
He released her hand. Miss Weir found herself suddenly shaky. Not that she was afraid, or had any cause for fear, but the nervous tension somehow relaxed when she finished speaking so frankly.
His face clouded. "You are engaged?"
"Yes."
He got up and stood over her. "To some self-centered cub--some puny egotist in his twenties, who'll make you a slave to his needs and whims, and discard you for another woman when you've worn out your youth and beauty," he cried. "But you won't marry him. I won't let you!"
Miss Weir rose. "I think I shall go home," she said steadily.
"You shall do nothing of the sort! There is no sense in your running away from me and giving rise to gossip--which will hurt yourself only."
"I am not running away, but I can't stay here and listen to such things from you. It's impossible, under the circumstances, for me to continue working here, so I may as well go now."
Bush stepped past her and snapped the latch on the office door. "I shan't permit it," he said passionately. "Girl, you don't seem to realize what this means to me. I want you--and I'm going to have you!"
"Please don't be melodramatic, Mr. Bush."
"Melodramatic! If it is melodrama for a man to show a little genuine feeling, I'm guilty. But I was never more in earnest in my life. I want a chance to win you. I value you above any woman I have ever met. Most women that--"
"Most women would jump at the chance," Hazel interrupted. "Well, I'm not most women. I don't consider myself as a marketable commodity, nor my looks as an aid to driving a good bargain in a matrimonial way. I simply don't care for you as you would want me to--and I'm very sure I never would. And, seeing that you do feel that way, it's better that we shouldn't be thrown together as we are here. That's why I'm going."
"That is to say, you'll resign because I've told you I care for you and proposed marriage?" he remarked.
"Exactly. It's the only thing to do under the circumstances."
"Give me a chance to show you that I can make you happy," he pleaded. "Don't leave. Stay here where I can at least see you and speak to you. I won't annoy you. And you can't tell. After you get over this surprise you might find yourself liking me better."
"That's just the trouble," Hazel pointed out. "If I were here you would be bringing this subject up in spite of yourself. And that can only cause pain. I can't stay."
"I think you had better reconsider that," he said; and a peculiar--an ugly--light crept into his eyes, "unless you desire to lay yourself open to being the most-talked-of young woman in this town, where you were born, where