Way Down East | Page 5

give you another cup of tea."
"No, thanks, I don't care about any more, but if you will let me talk to
you about something-- See here, Anna. Yes, I mean Anna. What
nonsense for us to attempt to keep up the Miss Moore and Mr.
Sanderson business. I used to scoff at love at first sight and say it was

all the idle fancy of the poets. Then I met you and remained to pray.
You've turned my world topsy-turvy. I can't think without you, and yet
it would be folly to tell this to my Governor, and ask his consent to our
marriage. He wants me to finish college, take the usual trip around the
world and then go into the firm. Besides, he wants me to eventually
marry a cousin of mine--a girl with a lot of money and with about as
much heart as would fit on the end of a pin."
She had followed this speech with almost painful attention. She bit her
lips till they were but a compressed line of coral. At last she found
words to say:
"We must not talk of these things, Mr. Sanderson. I have to go back
and care for my mother. She is an invalid and needs all my attention.
Bedsides, we are poor; desperately poor. I am here in your world, only
through the kindness of my cousin, Mrs. Tremont."
"It was your world till a year ago, Anna. I know all about your father's
failure, and how nobly you have done your part since then, and it kills
me to think of you, who ought to have everything, spending your
life--your youth--in that stupid little Waltham, doing the work of a
housemaid."
"I am very glad to do my part," she answered him bravely, but her eyes
were full of unshed tears.
"Anna, dearest, listen to me." He crossed over to where she sat and
took her hand. "Can't you have a little faith in me and do what I am
going to ask you? There is the situation exactly. My father won't
consent to our marriage, so there is no use trying to persuade him. And
here you are--a little girl who needs some one to take care of you and
help you take care of your mother, give her all the things that mean so
much to an invalid. Now, all this can be done, darling, if you will only
have faith in me. Marry me now secretly, before you go back to
Waltham. No one need know. And then the governor can be talked
around in time. My allowance will be ample to give you and your
mother all you need. Can't you see, darling?"

The color faded from her cheeks. She looked at him with eyes as
startled as a surprised fawn.
"O, Lennox, I would be afraid to do that."
"You would not be afraid, Anna, if you loved me."
It was so tempting to the weary young soul, who had already begun to
sink under the accumulated burdens of the past year, not for herself, but
for the sick mother, who complained unceasingly of the changed
conditions of their lives. The care and attention would mean so much to
her--and yet, what right had she to encourage this man to go against the
wishes of his father, to take advantage of his love for her? But she was
grateful to him, and there was a wealth of tenderness in the eyes that
she turned toward him.
"No, Lennox, I appreciate your generosity, but I do not think it would
be wise for either of us."
"Don't talk to me of generosity. Good God, Anna, can't you realize
what this separation means to me? I have no heart to go on with my life
away from you. If you are going to throw me over, I shall cut college
and go away."
She loved him all the better for his impatience.
"Anna," he said--the two dark heads were close together, the madness
of the impulse was too much for both. Their lips met in a first long kiss.
The man was to have his way. The kiss proved a more eloquent
argument than all his pleading.
"Say you will, Anna."
"Yes," she whispered.
And then they heard the street door open and close, and the voices of
Mrs. Tremont and her daughter, as they made their way to the library.
And the two young souls, who hovered on the brink of heaven, were

obliged to listen to the latest gossip of fashionable Boston.

CHAPTER III.
CONTAINING SOME REFLECTIONS AND THE ENTRANCE OF
MEPHISTOPHELES.
"Not all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor
horrid lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a
crime."--Byron.
Lennox Sanderson was stretched in