“Oh, do be careful,” exclaimed a soft voice to his right, and a hand touched his. “This way. I,” her dignity sat quaintly upon her, “I am Anne.”
“As if it could be any one else!” Curtis spoke with involuntary fervor, and Anne laughed shyly, then recollection returned to her, and her expression grew serious.
“I came downstairs hoping to find you,” she explained, her color mounting. “When I heard Cousin Claire and Cousin Julian talking in the drawing-room I came in here to wait until they left. I want,” she hesitated, selecting her words carefully, “to speak of Uncle John’s plan for—for our marriage.” The last words came with a rush, then she paused, tongue-tied.
Curtis Came to her rescue. “I understand,” he began gravely. “We will call the whole affair off. In other words,” striving to spare her embarrassment, “I release you from your promise.”
She plucked nervously at her gown. “It is you who do not understand,” she said. “I don’t wish to be released.”
Curtis raised his head. Had his ears played him false?
“You mean,” he asked slowly, “that you wish to go on with the marriage ceremony?”
“Yes.” The affirmative was little more than a whisper.
“But,” it was his turn to hesitate, “it seems now that you are very wealthy; it is not necessary to carry out the bargain your uncle wished to force upon you.”
She did not answer at once. “I gave my word to him,” she murmured. “I cannot break faith with the dead.”
The ticking of the mantel clock was distinctly audible in the silence. Suddenly she spoke again, a catch in her voice.
“You hesitate—you do not wish to—to marry me?” she asked.
The hot color mounted to his brow and then receded.
“I only hesitate on your account,” he said. “In marrying me you will be tied to a blind man—a failure.”
She did not reply at once. Instead, Curtis heard her move backward a few steps and then a slight click sounded as an electric lamp was switched on. Anne turned and regarded Curtis gravely under its direct rays. There was none too much flesh even yet on the tall, straight figure, but the air of alertness and poise which had formerly been characteristic had returned to him. His face still bore traces of mental suffering, although its unyouthful sadness had been effaced.
