Red Hair | Page 7

and put it down again; he was not perfectly calm.
"I don't think I shall let you. I am more than ever convinced you ought to have some one to take care of you--you are not of the type that makes it altogether safe to roam about alone."
"Oh! as for my type," I said, languidly, "I know all about that. Mrs. Carruthers said no one with this combination of color could be good, so I am not going to try. It will be quite simple."
He rose quickly from his chair and stood in front of the great log fire, such a comical expression on his face.
"You are the quaintest child I have ever met," he said.
"I am not a child, and I mean to know everything I can."
He went over towards the sofa again and arranged the cushions--great, splendid, fat pillows of old Italian brocade, stiff with gold and silver.
"Come!" he pleaded. "Sit here beside me, and let us talk; you are miles away there, and I want to--make you see reason."
I rose at once and came slowly to where he pointed. I settled myself deliberately. There was one cushion of purple and silver right under the light, and there I rested my head.
"Now talk!" I said, and half closed my eyes.
Oh, I was enjoying myself! The first time I have ever been alone with a real man! They--the old ambassadors and politicians and generals--used always to tell me I should grow into an attractive woman--now I meant to try what I could do.
Mr. Carruthers remained silent, but he sat down beside me, and looked and looked right into my eyes.
"Now talk, then," I said again.
"Do you know, you are a very disturbing person," he said, at last, by way of a beginning.
"What is that?" I asked.
"It is a woman who confuses one's thoughts when one looks at her. I do not now seem to have anything to say, or too much----"
"You called me a child."
"I should have called you an enigma."
I assured him I was not the least complex, and that I only wanted everything simple, and to be left in peace, without having to get married or worry to obey people.
We had a nice talk.
"You won't leave here on Saturday," he said, presently, apropos of nothing. "I do not think I shall go myself to-morrow. I want you to show me all over the gardens, and your favorite haunts."
"To-morrow I shall be busy packing," I said, gravely, "and I do not think I want to show you the gardens; there are some corners I rather loved; I believe it will hurt a little to say good-bye."
Just then Mr. Barton came into the room, fussy and ill at ease. Mr. Carruthers's face hardened again, and I rose to say good-night.
As he opened the door for me--"Promise you will come down to give me my coffee in the morning," he said.
"Qui vivra verra," I answered, and sauntered out into the hall. He followed me, and watched as I went up the staircase.
"Good-night!" I called, softly, as I got to the top, and laughed a little--I don't know why.
He bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time, and before I could turn the handle of my door he stood beside me.
"I do not know what there is about you," he said, "but you drive me mad. I shall insist upon carrying out my aunt's wish, after all! I shall marry you, and never let you out of my sight--do you hear?"
Oh, such a strange sense of exaltation crept over me--it is with me still! Of course, he probably will not mean all that to-morrow, but to have made such a stiff block of stone rush up-stairs and say this much now is perfectly delightful!
I looked at him up from under my eyelashes. "No, you will not marry me," I said, calmly, "or do anything else I don't like; and now, really, good-night," and I slipped into my room and closed the door. I could hear he did not stir for some seconds. Then he went off down the stairs again, and I am alone with my thoughts!
My thoughts! I wonder what they mean! What did I do that had this effect upon him? I intended to do something, and I did it, but I am not quite sure what it was. However, that is of no consequence. Sufficient for me to know that my self-respect is restored and I can now go out and see the world with a clear conscience.
He has asked me to marry him--and I have said I won't!

BRANCHES PARK,[1]
Thursday night, November 3.
DEAR BOB,--
A quaint thing has happened to me! Came down here to take over the place, and to say decidedly I would not marry Miss Travers, and I find her with red hair and a skin