“I shall do--whatever is the right thing to do. I am not so foolish as you think me. There is a license to be got, I know--a special license.”
“Oh,” she cried, “but that costs money! You will want money.”
“Of course I shall want money,” said Walter, with a certain dignity, though his heart grew cold at the thought.
“You have not much confidence in me, Emmy; but I am not so ignorant as you think.”
There was something like a tone of indignation in his voice, and she pressed his arm with her hand.
“I am sure you have the courage for anything,” she said.
“Courage! Well, that is not precisely the quality that is needed.” He thought it was his turn to laugh now. “I am not afraid.”
“I know you are not afraid of fighting or--anything of that kind. But to walk into an office, and face a man who is grinning at you all the time, and ask for a marriage license--”
“And of all the questions that will be asked you? You will have to answer a great many questions--all about me, which you don’t know, and all about yourself.”
“I know that, I hope. And I shall know the other, for you will tell me.”
“And first of all--goodness!” she cried suddenly, pushing him slightly away from her, gazing at him in the darkness; “a thing I never thought of--are you of age?”
He stood facing her, motionless. He had put out his hand to take hers again, to draw it through his arm once more. But this question startled him, and his hand dropped by his side. Each stood a dark shadow to the other in the dark, staring into each other’s faces, seeing nothing; and Walter’s heart gave a jump that seemed to take it out of his breast.
“Yes, of age. Oh, you fool! oh, you pretender! oh, you boy trying to be a man! You have known it all along, but you have not told me. You are not of age?”
“No,” said the poor boy, humbly. For the first moment he felt no sensation of anger or disappointment, but only the consternation of one who feels the very sky thundering down upon his head, the pillars of the earth falling. “Fool!” did she call him--“pretender!” What did she mean by fool? What did she mean by that tone of sudden indignation--almost fury? He felt beaten down by the sudden storm. Then the instinct of self-defense woke in him. “What have I done?” he said. “I have concealed nothing from you. No, I am not of age--not till October. What has that to do with it;--age can not be counted by mere years.”