Chapter 22

not caring. So I'm going to burn the paper, dear."

Margaret bowed her head. Had she ever known happiness before?

"It is not very flattering to me," she said, "but it shows that

you--care--a great deal. You care enough to--let me go. Ah--yes. You

may burn it now, Billy."

And promptly he tossed it into the flames. For a moment it lay

unharmed; then the edges caught and crackled and blazed, and their

heads drew near together as they watched it burn.

There (thought Billy) is the end! Ah, ropes, daggers, and poisons!

there is the end! Oh, Peggy. Peggy, if you could only have loved me!

if only this accursed money hadn't spoiled you so utterly! Billy was

quite properly miserable over it.

But he raised his head with a smile. "And now," said he--and not

without a little, little bitterness; "if I have any right to advise

you, Peggy, I--I think I'd be more careful in the future as to how I

used the money. You've tried to do good with it, I know. But every

good cause has its parasites. Don't trust entirely to the Haggages and

Jukesburys, Peggy, and--and don't desert the good ship Philanthropy

because there are a few barnacles on it, dear."

"You make me awfully tired," Miss Hugonin observed, as she rose to her

feet. "How do you suppose I'm going to do anything for Philanthropy or

any other cause when I haven't a penny in the world? You see, you've

just burned the last will Uncle Fred ever made--the one that left

everything to me. The one in your favour was probated or proved or

whatever they call it a week ago." I think Billy was surprised.

She stood over him, sharply outlined against the darkness, clasping

her hands tightly just under her chin, ludicrously suggestive of a

pre-Raphaelitish saint. In the firelight her hair was an aureole; and

her gown, yellow with multitudinous tiny arabesques of black velvet,

echoed the glow of her hair to a shade. The dancing flames made of her

a flickering little yellow wraith. And oh, the quaint tenderness of

her eyes!--oh, the hint of faint, nameless perfume she diffused! thus

ran the meditations of Billy's dizzied brain.

"Listen! I told you I burned the other will. I started to burn it. But

I was afraid to, because I didn't know what they could do to me if I

did. So I put it away in my little handkerchief-box--and if you'd had

a

grain

of sense you'd have noticed the orris on it. And you made me

promise not to take any steps in the matter till you got well. I knew

you would. So I had already sent that second will--sent it before I

promised you--to Hunston Wyke--he's my lawyer now, you know--and I've

heard from him, and he has probated it."

Billy was making various irrelevant sounds.

"And I brought that other will to you, and if you didn't choose to

examine it more carefully I'm sure it wasn't my fault. I kept my word

like a perfect gentleman and took no step

whatever

in the matter.

I didn't say a word when before my eyes you stripped me of my entire

worldly possessions--you know I didn't. You burned it up yourself,

Billy Woods--of your own free will and accord--and now Selwoode and

all that detestable money belongs to

you

, and I'm sure I'd like to

know what you are going to do about it. So

there

!"

Margaret faced him defiantly. Billy was in a state of considerable

perturbation.

"Why have you done this?" he asked, slowly. But a lucent

something--half fear, half gladness--was wakening in Billy's eyes.

And her eyes answered him. But her tongue was far less veracious.

"Because you thought I was a

pig

! Because you couldn't make

allowances for a girl who for four years has seen nothing but money

and money-worshippers and the power of money! Because I wanted

your--your respect, Billy. And you thought I couldn't give it up! Very

well!" Miss Hugonin waved her hand airily toward the hearth. "Now I

hope you know better.

Don't you dare get up, Billy Woods

!"

But I think nothing short of brute force could have kept Mr. Woods

from her.

"Peggy," he babbled--"ah, forgive me if I'm a presumptuous ass--but

was it because you knew I couldn't ask you to marry me so long as you

had the money?"

She dallied with her bliss. Margaret was on the other side of the

table.

"Why--why, of course it wasn't!" she panted. "What nonsense!"

"Look at me, Peggy!"

"I don't want to! You look like a fright with your head all tied up."

"Peggy ... this exercise is bad for an invalid."

"I--oh, please sit down!

Please

, Billy! It is bad for you."

"Not until you tell me----"

"But I

don't

!... Oh, you make me

awfully

tired."

"Peggy, don't you dare stamp your foot at me!... Peggy!"

"

Please

sit down! Now ... well, there's my hand, stupid, if you

will

be silly. Now sit down here--so, with your head leaned back on

this nice little cushion because it's good for your poor head--and

I'll sit on this nice little footstool and be quite, quite honest. No,

you must lean back--I don't care if you can't see me, I'd much rather

you couldn't. Well, the truth is--no, you

must

lean back--the truth

is--I've loved you all my life, Billy Woods, and--no, not

yet

,

Billy--and if you hadn't been the stupidest beautiful in the universe

you'd have seen it long ago. You--you needn't--lean back--any longer,

Billy ... Oh, Billy, why

didn't

you shave?"

"She

is

skinny, isn't she, Billy?"

"Now, Peggy, you mustn't abuse Kathleen. She's a friend of mine."

"Well, I know she's a friend of yours, but that doesn't prevent her

being skinny, does it?"

"Now, Peggy--"

"Please, Billy!

Please

say she's skinny!"

"Er--well, she's a bit thin, perhaps."

"You angel!"

"And you're quite sure you've forgiven me for doubting you?"

"And you've forgiven

me

?"

"Bless you, Peggy, I never doubted you! I've been too busy loving

you."

"It seems to me as if it had been--

always

."

"Why, didn't we love one another in Carthage, Peggy?"

"I think it was in Babylon, Billy."

"And will love one another----?"

"Forever and ever, dear. You've been to seek a wife, Billy boy."

"And oh, the dimple in her chin..."

*       *       *       *       *

Ah, well! There was a deal of foolish prattle there in the

firelight--delectable prattle, irresponsible as the chattering of

birds after a storm. And I fancy that the Eagle's shadow is lifted

from Selwoode, now that Love has taken up his abode there.

THE END


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