That was what she needed--forgetfulness and work...She did not love him--no, not one little atom.She had never felt less excitement about anybody, but she liked him, respected him, and trusted him.And he wanted her, wanted her desperately, Katherine had said, that was the chief thing of all.
"Maggie!" he said suddenly, turning round to her."Would you ever think of marrying me ?"She liked that directness and simplicity, characteristic of him.
She looked up at him.
"I don't think I'd be much of a success, Paul," she said.
He saw at once from that that she did not intend instantly to refuse him.His rosy cheeks took on an added tinge of colour and he caught a chair, drew it up to her long one and sat down, bending eagerly towards her.
"Leave that to me," he said.
"I oughtn't to think of it," she answered, shaking her head."And for very good reasons.For one thing I'm not in love with you, for another I'm not religious, and for a third I'm so careless that I'd never do for your wife.""Of course I knew about the first," he said eagerly."I knew you didn't love me, but that will come, Maggie.It MUST come..."Maggie shook her head."I love some one else," she said, "and Ialways will.But he's gone away and will never come back.I've made up my mind to that.But if he did come back and wanted me I couldn't promise that I wouldn't--" She broke off."You can see that it wouldn't do.""No, I can't see," he said, taking her hand."I can see that you like me, Maggie.I can see that we're splendid friends.If your other--friend--has left you altogether, then--well, time makes a great difference in those things.I think after we'd been together a little--Oh, Maggie, do!" he broke off just like a boy."Do! We suit each other so well that we MUST be happy, and then Grace likes you--she likes you very much.She does indeed.""Let's leave Grace out of this," Maggie said firmly."It's between you and me, Paul.It's nobody else's affair.What about the other two objections? I don't believe in your faith at all, and I'm unpunctual and forgetful, and break things."Strangely she was wanting him urgently now to reassure her.She realised that if now he withdrew she would be faced with a loneliness more terrible than anything that she had known since Martin had left her.The warm pressure of his hand about hers reassured her.
"Maggie dear," he said softly, "I love you better because you're young and unformed.I can help you, dear, and you can help me, of course; I'm a dreadful old buffer in many ways.I'm forty, you know, and you're such a child.How old are you, Maggie?""Twenty," she said.
"Twenty! Fancy! And you can like an old parson--well, well...If you care for me nothing else matters.God will see to the rest.""I don't like leaving things to other people," Maggie said slowly.
"Now I suppose I've shocked you.But there you are; I shall always be shocking you.""Nothing that you can say will shock me," he answered firmly."Do you know that that's part of the charm you have for me, you dear little wild thing? If you will come and live with me perhaps you will see how God works, how mysterious are His ways, and what He means to do for you--"Maggie shivered: "Oh, now you're talking like Aunt Anne.I don't want to feel that I'm something that some one can do what he likes with.I'm not.""No.I know you're not," Paul answered eagerly."You're very independent.I admire that in you--and so does Grace--""Would Grace like us to marry?" asked Maggie.
"It's the desire of her heart," said Paul.
"But how can you want to marry me when you know I don't love you ?""Love's a strange thing.Companionship can make great changes.You like me.That is enough for the present.I can be patient.I'm not an impetuous man."He was certainly not.He was just a large warm comfortable creature far, far from the terrified and strangely travelled soul of Martin...Insensibly, hardly realising what she did, Maggie was drawn towards Paul.He drew close to her, moved on to the sofa, and then with one arm about her let her head rest against his chest.
Maggie could neither move nor speak.She only felt a warm comfort, an intense desire for rest.
Very, very gently he bent down and kissed her forehead.The clock ticked on.The flames of the fire spurted and fell.Maggie's eyes closed, she gave a little sigh, and soon, her cheek against his waistcoat, like a little child, was fast asleep.
The engagement was a settled thing.Every one in the house was relieved.Maggie herself felt as though she had found lights and safety, running from a wood full of loneliness and terror.She was sharp enough to see how relieved they all were that she was 'settled.' They were true kindly people, and now they were more kind to her than ever: that showed that they had been uneasy about her.
She was 'off their hands now.'
Maggie, when she saw this in the faces of Philip and Mr.Trenchard, and even of Millicent, was glad that she was engaged.She was somebody's now; she had friends and a home and work now, and she would banish all that other world for ever.For ever?...How curious it was that from the moment of her engagement her aunts, their house, the Chapel, and the people around it began to press upon her attention with a pathos and sentiment that she had never felt before.She went to see the aunts, of course, and sat in the old drawing-room for half-an-hour, and they were kind and distant.
They were glad that she was to be married; they hoped that she would be happy.Aunt Anne looked very ill, and there was a terrible air of desertion about the house as though all the life had gone out of it.
Maggie came away very miserable.Then she said to herself: "Now, look here.You're in a new house now.You've got to think of nothing but that--nothing, nothing, nothing..."She meant Martin.She might think of Martin (how indeed could she help it?) but she was not to long for him.No, no...not to long for him.She did wish that she could go to sleep more quickly when she went to bed.
