The next morning, I found the lovely mistress of my destiny, with the softest of shawls on her shoulders, the brightest of parasols in her hand, and the smart little straw hat of the day before on her head, ready to show me the way to the fishing-place. If Icould be sure beforehand that these pages would only be read by persons actually occupied in the making of love--that oldest and longest-established of all branches of manufacturing industry--Icould go into some very tender and interesting particulars on the subject of my first day's fishing, under the adorable auspices of Alicia. But as I cannot hope for a wholly sympathetic audience--as there may be monks, misogynists, political economists, and other professedly hard-hearted persons present among those whom I now address--I think it best to keep to safe generalities, and to describe my love-making in as few sentences as the vast, though soft, importance of the subject will allow me to use.
Let me confess, then, that I assumed the character of a fastidious angler, and managed to be a week in discovering the right place to fish in--always, it is unnecessary to say, under Alicia's guidance. We went up the stream and down the stream, on one side. We crossed the bridge, and went up the stream and down the stream on the other. We got into a punt, and went up the stream (with great difficulty), and down the stream (with great ease). We landed on a little island, and walked all round it, and inspected the stream attentively from a central point of view. We found the island damp, and went back to the bank, and up the stream, and over the bridge, and down the stream again; and then, for the first time, the sweet girl turned appealingly to me, and confessed that she had exhausted her artless knowledge of the locality. It was exactly a week from the day when I had first followed her into the fields with my fishing-rod over my shoulder; and I had never yet caught anything but Alicia's hand, and that not with my hook.
We sat down close together on the bank, entirely in consequence of our despair at not finding a good fishing-place. I looked at the brown eyes, and they turned away observantly down the stream.
I followed them, and they turned away inquiringly up the stream.
Was this angel of patience and kindness still looking for a fishing place? And was it _up_ the stream, after all? No! --she smiled and shook her head when I asked the question, and the brown eyes suddenly stole a look at me. I could hold out no longer In one breathless moment I caught hold of both her hands--in one stammering sentence I asked her if she would be my wife.
She tried faintly to free her hands--gave up the attempt--smiled--made an effort to look grave--gave that up, too--sighed suddenly--checked herself suddenly--said nothing.
Perhaps I ought to have taken my answer for granted; but the least business-like man that ever lived becomes an eminently practical character in matters of love. I repeated my question.
She looked away confusedly; her eye lighted on a corner of her father's red-brick house, peeping through a gap in the plantation already mentioned; and her blushing cheeks lost their color instantly. I felt her hands grow cold; she drew them resolutely out of mine, and rose with the tears in her eyes. Had I offended her?
"No," she said when I asked her the question, and turned to me again, and held out her hand with such frank, fearless kindness, that I almost fell on my knees to thank her for it.
Might I hope ever to hear her say "Yes" to the question that Ihad asked on the riverbank?
She sighed bitterly, and turned again toward the red-brick house.
Was there any family reason against her saying "Yes"? Anything that I must not inquire into? Any opposition to be dreaded from her father?
The moment I mentioned her father, she shrank away from me and burst into a violent fit of crying.
"Don't speak of it again!" she said in a broken voice. "Imustn't--you mustn't--ah, don't, don't say a word more about it!
I'm not distressed with you--it is not your fault. Don't say anything--leave me quiet for a minute. I shall soon be better it you leave me quiet."She dried her eyes directly, with a shiver as if it was cold, and took my arm. I led her back to the house-gate; and then, feeling that I could not go in to lunch as usual, after what had happened, said I would return to the fishing-place.
"Shall I come to dinner this evening?" I asked, as I rang the gate-bell for her.
"Oh, yes--yes!--do come, or he--"
The mysterious man-servant opened the door, and we parted before she could say the next words.
