He was deadly pale; his eyes, as they rested on me, had a wild startled look. With icy cold fingers he took my hand, and lifted it in silence to his lips. The sight of his agitation encouraged me--I don't to this day know why, unless it appealed in some way to my compassion. Iwas bold enough to look at him. Still silent, he placed the letters on the table--and then he laid the signed paper beside them. When I saw that, I was bolder still. I spoke first.
"Surely you don't refuse me?" I said.
He answered, "I thank you with my whole heart; I admire you more than words can say. But I can't take it.""Why not?"
"The fortune is yours," he said gently. "Remember how poor I am, and feel for me if I say no more."His head sank on his breast. He stretched out one hand, silently imploring me to understand him. I could endure it no longer. Iforgot every consideration which a woman, in my position, ought to have remembered. Out came the desperate words, before I could stop them.
"You won't take my gift by itself?" I said.
"No."
"Will you take Me with it?"
That evening, Mrs. Fosdyke indulged her sly sense of humor in a new way. She handed me an almanac.
"After all, my dear," she remarked, "you needn't be ashamed of having spoken first. You have only used the ancient privilege of the ***. This is Leap Year."