"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 like milk, and a pair of green
eyes that look at you from a forest of black eyelashes with a
thousand unsaid challenges.
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