第10章 CHAPTER III \"THE MORE HASTE THE WORSE SPEED\" (3)

     
     
     
     　　\"What a perfect life you seem to live here! I have always felt rathercontemptuously towards the poets before, with their wishes, \"Mine be acot beside a hill,\" and that sort of thing: but now I am afraid that thetruth is, I have been nothing better than a cockney. Just now I feel as iftwenty years\" hard study of law would be amply rewarded by one yearof such an exquisite serene life as this--such skies!\" looking up--\"suchcrimson and amber foliage, so perfectly motionless as that!\" pointing tosome of the great forest trees which shut in the garden as if it were anest.
     
     　　\"You must please to remember that our skies are not always as deep ablue as they are now. We have rain, and our leaves do fall, and getsodden: though I think Helstone is about as perfect a place as any in theworld. Recollect how you rather scorned my description of it oneevening in Harley Street: \"a village in a tale.\"
     
     　　\"Scorned, Margaret That is rather a hard word.\"
     
     　　\"Perhaps it is. Only I know I should have liked to have talked to you ofwhat I was very full at the time, and you--what must I call it, then?-spokedisrespectfully of Helstone as a mere village in a tale.\"
     
     　　\"I will never do so again,\" said he, warmly. They turned the corner of thewalk.
     
     　　\"I could almost wish, Margaret----\" he stopped and hesitated. It was so
     
     　　unusual for the fluent lawyer to hesitate that Margaret looked up at him,in a little state of questioning wonder; but in an instant--from whatabout him she could not tell--she wished herself back with her mother-herfather--anywhere away from him, for she was sure he was going tosay something to which she should not know what to reply. In anothermoment the strong pride that was in her came to conquer her suddenagitation, which she hoped he had not perceived. Of course she couldanswer, and answer the right thing; and it was poor and despicable ofher to shrink from hearing any speech, as if she had not power to put anend to it with her high maidenly dignity.
     
     　　\"Margaret,\" said he, taking her by surprise, and getting suddenpossession of her hand, so that she was forced to stand still and listen,despising herself for the fluttering at her heart all the time; \"Margaret, Iwish you did not like Helstone so much--did not seem so perfectly calmand happy here. I have been hoping for these three months past to findyou regretting London--and London friends, a little--enough to makeyou listen more kindly\" (for she was quietly, but firmly, striving toextricate her hand from his grasp) \"to one who has not much to offer, itis true--nothing but prospects in the future--but who does love you,Margaret, almost in spite of himself. Margaret, have I startled you toomuch? Speak!\" For he saw her lips quivering almost as if she weregoing to cry. She made a strong effort to be calm; she would not speaktill she had succeeded in mastering her voice, and then she said:
     
     　　\"I was startled. I did not know that you cared for me in that way. I havealways thought of you as a friend; and, please, I would rather go onthinking of you so. I don\"t like to be spoken to as you have been doing. Icannot answer you as you want me to do, and yet I should feel so sorryif I vexed you.\"
     
     　　\"Margaret,\" said he, looking into her eyes, which met his with their open,straight look, expressive of the utmost good faith and reluctance to givepain, \"Do you\"--he was going to say--\"love any one else?\" But it seemedas if this question would be an insult to the pure serenity of those eyes.
     
     　　\"Forgive me I have been too abrupt. I am punished. Only let me hope.
     
     　　Give me the poor comfort of telling me you have never seen any onewhom you could----\" Again a pause. He could not end his sentence.
     
     　　Margaret reproached herself acutely as the cause of his distress.