Mr. Witt's Widow Part 27

"Gerald will be the head of the family, to begin with----"

"The family?"

"Certainly; the Neston family."

"Who are they? Are they famous? I never heard of them till the other day."

"I daresay not; we moved in rather different circles."

"Do you take pleasure in being brutal?"

"I take pleasure in nothing connected with this confounded affair," said George, impatiently.

"Then why not drop it?"

George shook his head.

"Too late," he said.

"It's mere selfishness. You are only thinking of what people will say of you."

"I have a right to consider that."

"It's mean--mean and heartless!"

George rose. "Really, it's no use going on with this," said he. And, making a slight bow, he turned towards the door.

"I didn't mean it--I didn't mean it," cried Neaera. "But I am out of my mind. Ah, have pity on me!" And she flung herself on the floor, right in his path.

George felt very absurd. He stood, his hat in one hand, his stick and gloves in the other, while Neaera clasped his legs below the knee, and, he feared, was about to bedew his boots with her tears.

"This is tragedy, I suppose," he thought. "How the devil am I to get away?"

"I have never had a chance," Neaera went on, "never. Ah, it is hard! And when at last----" Her voice choked, and George, to his horror, heard her sob.

He nervously s.h.i.+fted his feet about, as well as Neaera's eager clutches would allow him. How he wished he had not come!

"I cannot bear it!" she cried. "They will all write about me, and jeer at me; and Gerald will cast me off. Where shall I hide?--where shall I hide? What was it to you?"

Then she was silent, but George heard her stifled weeping. Her clasp relaxed, and she fell forward, with her face on the floor, in front of him. He did not seize his chance of escape.

"London is uninhabitable to me, if I do as you ask," he said.

She looked up, the tears escaping from her eyes.

"Ah, and the world to me, if you don't!"

George sat down in an arm-chair; he abandoned the hope of running away.

Neaera rose, pushed back her hair from her face, and fixed her eyes eagerly on him. He looked down for an instant, and she shot a hasty glance at the mirror, and then concentrated her gaze on him again, a little anxious smile coming to her lips.

"You will?" she asked in a whisper.

George petulantly threw his gloves on a table near him. Neaera advanced, and knelt down beside him, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"You have made me cry so much," she said. "See, my eyes are dim. You won't make me cry any more?"

George looked at the bright eyes, half veiled in tears, and the mouth trembling on the brink of fresh weeping. And the eyes and mouth were very good.

"It is Gerald," she said; "he is so strict. And the shame, the shame!"

"You don't know what it means to me."

"I do indeed: I know it is hard. But you are generous. No, no, don't turn your face away!"

George still sat silent. Neaera took his hand in hers.

"Ah, do!" she said.

George smiled,--at himself, not at Neaera.

"Well, don't cry any more," said he, "or the eyes will be red as well as dim."

"You will, you will?" she whispered eagerly.

He nodded.

"Ah, you are good! G.o.d bless you, George: you are good!"

"No. I am only weak."

Neaera swiftly bent and kissed his hand. "The hand that gives me life,"

she said.

"Nonsense," said George, rather roughly.

"Will you clear me altogether?"

"Oh yes; everything or nothing,"

"Will you give me that--that character?"

"Yes."

She seized his reluctant hand, and kissed it again.

"I have your word?"

"You have."