"I can't wonder you think so, of course," he almost groaned. "Iwas afraid it would be like that. When one's been painted black all one's life, it's not easy to change one's color, of course.""Oh, but I didn't say that black wasn't a very nice color,"stammered Billy, a little wildly.
"Thank you." Cyril's heavy brows rose and fell the fraction of an inch. "Still, I must confess that just now I should prefer another shade."He paused, and Billy cast distractedly about in her mind for a simple, natural change of subject. She had just decided to ask him what he thought of the condition of the Brittany peasants, when he questioned abruptly, and in a voice that was not quite steady:
"Billy, what should you say if I should tell you that the avowed woman-hater had strayed so far from the prescribed path as to--to like one woman well enough as to want to--marry her?"The word was like a match to the gunpowder of Billy's fears. Her self-control was shattered instantly into bits.
"Marry? No, no, you wouldn't--you couldn't really be thinking of that," she babbled, growing red and white by turns. "Only think how a wife would--would b-bother you!""Bother me? When I loved her?"
"But just think--remember! She'd want cushions and rugs and curtains, and you don't like them; and she'd always be talking and laughing when you wanted quiet; and she--she'd want to drag you out to plays and parties and--and everywhere. Indeed, Cyril, I'm sure you'd never like a wife--long!" Billy stopped only because she had no breath with which to continue.
Cyril laughed a little grimly.
"You don't draw a very attractive picture, Billy. Still, I'm not afraid. I don't think this particular--wife would do any of those things--to trouble me.""Oh, but you don't know, you can't tell," argued the girl.
"Besides, you have had so little experience with women that you'd just be sure to make a mistake at first. You want to look around very carefully--very carefully, before you decide.""I have looked around, and very carefully, Billy. I know that in all the world there is just one woman for me."Billy struggled to her feet. Mingled pain and terror looked from her eyes. She began to speak wildly, incoherently. She wondered afterward just what she would have said if Aunt Hannah had not come into the room at that moment and announced that Bertram was at the door to take her for a sleigh-ride if she cared to go.
"Of course she'll go," declared Cyril, promptly, answering for her.
"It is time I was off anyhow." To Billy, he said in a low voice:
"You haven't been very encouraging, little girl--in fact, you've been mighty discouraging. But some day--some other day, I'll try to make clear to you--many things."Billy greeted Bertram very cordially. It was such a relief--his cheery, genial companionship! The air, too, was bracing, and all the world lay under a snow-white blanket of sparkling purity.
Everything was so beautiful, so restful!
It was not surprising, perhaps, that the very frankness of Billy's joy misled Bertram a little. His blood tingled at her nearness, and his eyes grew deep and tender as he looked down at her happy face. But of all the eager words that were so near his lips, not one reached the girl's ears until the good-byes were said; then wistfully Bertram hazarded:
"Billy, don't you think, sometimes, that I'm gaining--just a little on that rival of mine--that music?"Billy's face clouded. She shook her head gently.
"Bertram, please don't--when we've had such a beautiful hour together," she begged. "It troubles me. If you do, I can't go--again."
"But you shall go again," cried Bertram, bravely smiling straight into her eyes. "And there sha'n't ever anything in the world trouble you, either--that I can help!"
