"That you fear that I will again--shadow your footsteps?" It was the first time since the memorable night itself that Billy had ever in Bertram's presence referred to her young guardianship of his welfare. She realized now, suddenly, that she had just been giving the man before her some very "sisterly advice," and the thought sent a confused red to her cheeks.
Bertram turned quickly.
"Billy, that was the dearest and loveliest thing a girl ever did--only I was too great a chump to appreciate it!" finished Bertram in a voice that was not quite steady.
"Thank you," smiled the girl, with a slow shake of her head and a relieved look in her eyes; "but I'm afraid I can't quite agree to that." The next moment she had demanded mischievously: "Why, then, pray, this unflattering objection to my--friendliness now?""Because I don't want you for a friend, or a sister, or anything else that's related," stormed Bertram, with sudden vehemence. "Idon't want you for anything but--a wife! Billy, WON'T you marry me?"Again Billy laughed--laughed until she saw the pained anger leap to the gray eyes before her; then she became grave at once.
"Bertram, forgive me. I didn't think you could--you can't be--serious!"
"But I am."
Billy shook her head.
"But you don't love me--not ME, Bertram. It's only the turn of my head or--or the tilt of my chin that you love--to paint," she protested, unconsciously echoing the words Calderwell had said to her weeks before. "I'm only another 'Face of a Girl.'""You're the only 'Face of a girl' to me now, Billy," declared the man, with disarming tenderness.
"No, no, not that," demurred Billy, in distress. "You don't mean it. You only think you do. It couldn't be that. It can't be!""But it is, dear. I think I have loved you ever since that night long ago when I saw your dear, startled face appealing to me from beyond Seaver's hateful smile. And, Billy, I never went once with Seaver again--anywhere. Did you know that?""No; but--I'm glad--so glad!"
"And I'm glad, too. So you see, I must have loved you then, though unconsciously, perhaps; and I love you now.""No, no, please don't say that. It can't be--it really can't be.
I--I don't love you--that way, Bertram."
The man paled a little.
"Billy--forgive me for asking, but it's so much to me--is it that there is--some one else?" His voice shook.
"No, no, indeed! There is no one."
"It's not--Calderwell?"
Billy's forehead grew pink. She laughed nervous1y.
"No, no, never!"
"But there are others, so many others!"
"Nonsense, Bertram; there's no one--no one, I assure you!""It's not William, of course, nor Cyril. Cyril hates women."A deeper flush came to Billy's face. Her chin rose a little; and an odd defiance flashed from her eyes. But almost instantly it was gone, and a slow smile had come to her lips.
"Yes, I know. Every one--says that Cyril hates women," she observed demurely.
"Then, Billy, I sha'n't give up!" vowed Bertram, softly. "Sometime you WILL love me!""No, no, I couldn't. That is, I'm not going to--to marry,"stammered Billy.
"Not going to marry!"
"No. There's my music--you know how I love that, and how much it is to me. I don't think there'll ever be a man--that I'll love better."Bertram lifted his head. Very slowly he rose till his splendid six feet of clean-limbed strength and manly beauty towered away above the low chair in which Billy sat. His mouth showed new lines about the corners, and his eyes looked down very tenderly at the girl beside him; but his voice, when he spoke, had a light whimsicality that deceived even Billy's ears.
"And so it's music--a cold, senseless thing of spidery marks on clean white paper--that is my only rival," he cried. "Then I'll warn you, Billy, I'll warn you. I'm going to win!" And with that he was gone.
