and by a few candles which had been tactfully set at the far end of the room. Clare had never looked more handsome. He was paler than usual, and his fine eyes glowed with a steady light. His declaration was couched in the most poetic language; it might have come from a book.
My response, when I finally made it, was not at all poetic. Staring at his bowed black head—for he had actually knelt to await my answer—I croaked out,
'No—no indeed. I—I really can't.'
Luckily he did not inquire into my reasons. I could hardly have explained that I was already betrothed. But his response told me that instead of freeing myself I had only become more deeply involved.
He lifted his head. He really was very handsome. I felt that I was weakening.
'I understand,' he murmured. 'I expected no other response, at first. Believe me, my dear, your delicacy will receive no rude shocks from me. I admire your modesty more than I can say.'
While I gaped unbecomingly, he took my limp hand in his and pressed his lips against my palm.
I snatched it away. The tingle that ran through my body, from that single focal point, shocked me. Was I becoming immodest, to respond so quickly to the slightest caress—from any man? Clare misinterpreted my gesture. He overflowed with apologies. As I sat struggling with shock and chagrin, he made his excuses, arranged a later meeting, expressed undying devotion and eternal hope—and pressed into my reluctant hand a small, hard object.
'The time will come when I will be permitted to place it where it should be,' he said. 'Until then, keep it, for it is yours.'
After he had gone I looked at the object I held in my hand. It was a ring, of course; now I had two. From its appearance, this latest circlet should have been described, in capital letters, as the Betrothal Ring of the Clares. Huge and massive, it bore a singularly unattractive device—that of a snarling dog tearing at some small animal. A shiver ran through me as I looked. I did not altogether believe in omens, but this seemed a forbidding token to offer a bride.
CHAPTER FOUR
It is no wonder that in the following days I became pale and thin. My aunt scolded, and tried to stuff me with rich foods, the very sight of which turned my nervous stomach.
My situation was bad enough, but the fact I was reluctant to face was even worse. Not only was I betrothed to two men, but I did not want to marry either! I fancied myself in love with Fernando, it is true, but marriage... ? As for Clare, my feelings were just as confused. I was fascinated by him, and I was afraid of him—for no valid reason. His dark, sinister good looks and the darker hints of a family mystery were surely insufficient cause for the shudder that ran through me at the thought of becoming his wife.
A sense of helplessness increased my distress. I began to feel like a pale little ghost, mouthing words no one heard. No one listened to me. Clare, Fernando, my aunt, Mr. Beam—all of them proceeded with their own plans, ignoring me, as if I were a doll, or an ornament to be placed where I would appear to the best advantage. No one asks a vase of flowers, or a china statuette, where it would like to stand.
Clare was on the footing of an accepted suitor. Finally, in desperation, I informed my aunt that I had rejected him.
'So he said,' she answered briskly. 'Fortunately, he is a man who knows his own mind ... Now what shall we have for your traveling dress? This French velvet is beautiful, but the color...'
Sometimes I felt like rushing out of the house, shouting, and pounding with my fists on some object or other. But that was impossible.
From time to time I caught glimpses of Fernando. He haunted our street, lurking in doorways. There was no chance of communicating with him; whenever I went out it was with my aunt, or with Clare. I began to relax. If I could not speak with Fernando, we could not arrange an elopement. That would be one less pressure upon me.
Then, one morning, as I sat
My response, when I finally made it, was not at all poetic. Staring at his bowed black head—for he had actually knelt to await my answer—I croaked out,
'No—no indeed. I—I really can't.'
Luckily he did not inquire into my reasons. I could hardly have explained that I was already betrothed. But his response told me that instead of freeing myself I had only become more deeply involved.
He lifted his head. He really was very handsome. I felt that I was weakening.
'I understand,' he murmured. 'I expected no other response, at first. Believe me, my dear, your delicacy will receive no rude shocks from me. I admire your modesty more than I can say.'
While I gaped unbecomingly, he took my limp hand in his and pressed his lips against my palm.
I snatched it away. The tingle that ran through my body, from that single focal point, shocked me. Was I becoming immodest, to respond so quickly to the slightest caress—from any man? Clare misinterpreted my gesture. He overflowed with apologies. As I sat struggling with shock and chagrin, he made his excuses, arranged a later meeting, expressed undying devotion and eternal hope—and pressed into my reluctant hand a small, hard object.
'The time will come when I will be permitted to place it where it should be,' he said. 'Until then, keep it, for it is yours.'
After he had gone I looked at the object I held in my hand. It was a ring, of course; now I had two. From its appearance, this latest circlet should have been described, in capital letters, as the Betrothal Ring of the Clares. Huge and massive, it bore a singularly unattractive device—that of a snarling dog tearing at some small animal. A shiver ran through me as I looked. I did not altogether believe in omens, but this seemed a forbidding token to offer a bride.
CHAPTER FOUR
It is no wonder that in the following days I became pale and thin. My aunt scolded, and tried to stuff me with rich foods, the very sight of which turned my nervous stomach.
My situation was bad enough, but the fact I was reluctant to face was even worse. Not only was I betrothed to two men, but I did not want to marry either! I fancied myself in love with Fernando, it is true, but marriage... ? As for Clare, my feelings were just as confused. I was fascinated by him, and I was afraid of him—for no valid reason. His dark, sinister good looks and the darker hints of a family mystery were surely insufficient cause for the shudder that ran through me at the thought of becoming his wife.
A sense of helplessness increased my distress. I began to feel like a pale little ghost, mouthing words no one heard. No one listened to me. Clare, Fernando, my aunt, Mr. Beam—all of them proceeded with their own plans, ignoring me, as if I were a doll, or an ornament to be placed where I would appear to the best advantage. No one asks a vase of flowers, or a china statuette, where it would like to stand.
Clare was on the footing of an accepted suitor. Finally, in desperation, I informed my aunt that I had rejected him.
'So he said,' she answered briskly. 'Fortunately, he is a man who knows his own mind ... Now what shall we have for your traveling dress? This French velvet is beautiful, but the color...'
Sometimes I felt like rushing out of the house, shouting, and pounding with my fists on some object or other. But that was impossible.
From time to time I caught glimpses of Fernando. He haunted our street, lurking in doorways. There was no chance of communicating with him; whenever I went out it was with my aunt, or with Clare. I began to relax. If I could not speak with Fernando, we could not arrange an elopement. That would be one less pressure upon me.
Then, one morning, as I sat
Similar Books
