CHAPTER NINETEEN

An Incident

22nd Night—What have I done? And what will be the end of it? I cannot sleep. I went down to dinner cheerfully, although my heart was broken. After the dinner, the ladies went to the sitting room, and Milicent requested that I sing. Miss Wilmot, of course, would not sing unless the gentlemen were present.

Mr Huntingdon entered the room as I was singing. He quickly turned to Miss Wilmot—

"Now, Miss Wilmot, won't you sing for us tonight?" he asked. "I have been waiting to hear your voice all day."

I knew Annabella's musical talents were far better than mine, but he was quite impolite in his behaviour when he requested her to sing. She sat down at the piano to sing and play, and looked quite proud as she did. Mr Huntingdon watched her while she played. I could not keep myself from crying, although I hid my face as I sat on the sofa, as he was standing near me. I did not want to further embarrass myself by allowing that cruel man to see how he affected my emotions. When she finished, I left the room quickly, and walked to the library.

I sat down and cried again, but soon heard the door open and close. I thought it was a servant coming in to clean.

A hand gently touched my shoulder, and a voice softly said—

"Helen, what is the matter? You must tell me."

"It is nothing concerning you, Mr Huntingdon."

"Are you sure it does not concern me? Please tell me, because if so, I have something to tell you. If not, I'll go."

"Go, then!" I cried, but I knew he would go if I told him to, so I quickly added, "Or say what you have to say, and finish!"

"It is this," he continued, "that Annabella Wilmot is nothing compared to you, and I love you! I cannot live without you! Will you marry me?" he cried.

"No, no, wait!" I exclaimed, "you must ask my uncle and aunt."

At that moment, my aunt opened the door, looking shocked to see us together. Mr Huntingdon quickly stood up.

"Mrs Maxwell, please excuse me. I've been asking your sweet niece to marry me, and she informed me that I must first speak with you and your good husband."

"We will talk of this tomorrow, sir," said my aunt, coldly. "You should return to your room, Helen. I will discuss this matter with you tomorrow."

Of course I could not sleep that night, and so I have written all this. I will go to bed now, and try to sleep, or think of my Mr Huntingdon.

(end of section)