The Bronze Bell Part 29

"When?"

"After you left the Quains."

"How?" she propounded triumphantly.

"I can't tell you, except vaguely. If you'll be content with the substance of the story, lacking details, for the present----"

"For the present? You mean you'll tell me the whole truth--?"

"Sometime, yes. But now, I may not.... A dear friend of mine owned the photograph. He gave it me at my request. I came to India, and on the steamer lost it; in spite of my offer of a reward, I was obliged to leave the boat without it, when we got to Calcutta. My friend here knew how highly I valued it----"

"Why?"

"Because I'd told him."

"I don't mean that. Why do you value it so highly?"

"Because of its original." He took heart of despair and plunged boldly.

She looked him over calmly. "Do you mean me to understand that you told this friend you had followed me to India because you were in love with me?"

"Precisely.... Thank you."

She laughed a little, mockingly. "Are you, Mr. Amber?"

"In love with you?... Yes."

"Oh!" She maintained her impartial and judicial att.i.tude admirably.

"But even were I inclined to believe that, your whole story is discredited by the simple fact that through no combination of circ.u.mstances could this picture have come into your possession in America."

"I give you my word of honor, Miss Farrell."

"I wish you wouldn't. If you are perfectly sincere in a.s.serting that, you force me to think you----"

"Mad? I'm not, really," he argued earnestly. "It's quite true."

"No." She shook her head positively. "You say you obtained it from a man, which can't be so. There were only a dozen prints made; four I gave to women friends in England and seven I sent to people out here.

The other one I have."

"I can only repeat what I have already told you. There are gaps in the story, I know--incredible gaps; they can't be bridged, just now. I beg you to believe me."

"And how soon will you be free to tell me the whole truth?"

"Only after ... we're married."

She laughed adorably. "Mr. Amber," she protested, "you are dangerous--you are delightful! Do you really believe I shall ever marry you?"

"I hope so. I came to India to ask you--to use every means in my power to make you marry me. You see, I love you."

"And ... and when is this to happen, please--in the name of impudence?"

"As soon as I can persuade you--to-night, if you will."

"Oh!"

He was obliged to laugh with her at the absurdity of the suggestion.

"Or to-morrow morning, at the very latest," he amended seriously. "I don't think we dare wait longer."

"Why is that?"

"Delays are perilous. There might be another chap."

"How can you be sure there isn't already?"

He fell sober enough at this. "But there isn't, is there, really?"

She delayed her reply provokingly. At length, "I don't see why I should say," she observed, "but I don't mind telling you--no, there isn't--yet." And as she spoke, Farrell called "Sophia?" from the window of the drawing-room. She stood up, answering clearly with the a.s.surance that she was coming, and began deliberately to move toward the house.

Amber followed, deeply anxious. "I've not offended you?"

"No," she told him gravely, "but you have both puzzled and mystified me. I shall have to sleep on this before I can make up my mind whether or not to be offended."

"And ... will you marry me?"

"Oh, dear! How do I know?" she laughed.

"You won't give me a hint as to the complexion of my chances?"

She paused, turning. "The chances, Mr. Amber," she said without affection or coquetry, "are all in your favour ... _if_ you can prove your case. I do like you very much, and you have been successful in rousing my interest in you to an astonis.h.i.+ng degree.... But I shall have to think it over; you must allow me at least twelve hours' grace."

"You'll let me know to-morrow morning?"

"Yes."

"Early?"

"You've already been bidden to breakfast by Mr. Raikes."

"Meanwhile, may I have my photograph?"

"Mine, if you please!... I think not; if my decision is favourable, you shall have it back--after breakfast."

"Thank you," he said meekly. And as they were entering the Residency he hung back. "I'm going now," he said; "it's good-night. Will you remember you've not refused me the privilege of hoping?"

"I've told you I like you, Mr. Amber." Impulsively she extended her hand. "Good-night."

He bowed and put his lips to it; and she did not resist.