'I don't mind the dark,' he said; and it seemed as though he hardly intended to go even yet.
'But I do,' said Bell, 'and I shall ring for candles.' But he stopped her as she put her hand out to the bell-pull.
'Stop a moment, Bell. You need hardly have the candles before I go, and you need not begrudge my staying either, seeing that I shall be all alone at home.'
'Begrudge your staying!'
'But, however, you shall begrudge it, or else make me very welcome.' He still held her by the wrist, which he had caught as he prevented her from summoning the servant.
'What do you mean?' said she. 'You know you are welcome to us as flowers in May. You always were welcome; but now, when you have come to us in our trouble— At any rate, you shall never say that I turn you out.'
'Shall I never say so?' And still he held her by the wrist. He had kept his chair throughout, but she was standing before him,—between him and the fire. But she, though he held her in this way, thought little of his words, or of his action. They had known each other with great intimacy, and though Lily would still laugh at her, saying that Dr Crofts was her lover, she had long since taught herself that no such feeling as that would ever exist between them.
'Shall I never say so, Bell? What if so poor a man as I ask for the hand that you will not give to so rich a man as your cousin Bernard?'
She instantly withdrew her arm and moved back very quickly a step or two across the rug. She did it almost with the motion which she might have used had he insulted her; or had a man spoken such words who would not, under any circumstances, have a right to speak them.
'Ah, yes! I thought it would be so,' he said. 'I may go now, and may know that I have been turned out.'
'What is it you mean, Dr Crofts? What is it you are saying? Why do you talk that nonsense, trying to see if you can provoke me?'
'Yes; it is nonsense. I have no right to address you in that way, and certainly should not have done it now that I am in your house in the way of my profession. I beg your pardon.' Now he also was standing, but he had not moved from his side of the fireplace. 'Are you going to forgive me before I go?'
'Forgive you for what?' said she.
'For daring to love you; for having loved you almost as long as you can remember; for loving you better than all beside. This alone you should forgive; but will you forgive me for having told it?'
He had made her no offer, nor did she expect that he was about to make one. She herself had hardly yet realised the meaning of his words, and she certainly had asked herself no question as to the answer which she should give to them. There are cases in which lovers present themselves in so unmistakable a guise, that the first word of open love uttered by them tells their whole story, and tells it without the possibility of a surprise. And it is generally so when the lover has not been an old friend, when even his acquaintance has been of modern date. It had been so essentially in the case of Crosbie and Lily Dale. When Crosbie came to Lily and made his offer, he did it with perfect ease and thorough self-possession, for he almost knew that it was expected. And Lily, though she had been flurried for a moment, had her answer pat enough. She already loved the man with all her heart, delighted in his presence, basked in the sunshine of his manliness, rejoiced in his wit, and had tuned her ears to the tone of his voice. It had all been done, and the world expected it. Had he not made his offer, Lily would have been ill-treated;—though, alas, alas, there was future ill-treatment, so much heavier, in store for her! But there are other cases in which a lover cannot make himself known as such without great difficulty, and when he does do so, cannot hope for an immediate answer in his favour. It is hard upon old friends that this difficulty should usually fall the heaviest upon them. Crofts had been so intimate with the Dale family that very many persons had thought it probable that he would marry one of the girls. Mrs Dale herself had thought so, and had almost hoped it. Lily had certainly done both. These thoughts and hopes had somewhat faded away, but yet their former existence should have been in the doctor's favour. But now, when he had in some way spoken out, Bell started back from him and would not believe that he was in earnest. She probably loved him better than any man in the world, and yet, when he spoke to her of love, she could not bring herself to understand him.
'I don't know what you mean, Dr Crofts; indeed I do not,' she said.
'I had meant to ask you to be my wife; simply that. But you shall not have the pain of making me a positive refusal. As I rode here to-day I thought of it. During my frequent rides of late I have thought of little else. But I told myself that I had no right to do it. I have not even a house in which it would be fit that you should live.'
'Dr Crofts, if I loved you,—if I wished to marry you—' and then she stopped herself.
