Page 151 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

ter when we’ve furbished it up a little.’
‘Oh, don’t furbish it, Lord Warburton; leave it alone. I
like it this way.
‘Well then, if you like it, I’m more and more unable to see
your objection to what I propose.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t make you understand.’
‘You ought at least to try. I’ve a fair intelligence. Are you
afraid—afraid of the climate? We can easily live elsewhere,
you know. You can pick out your climate, the whole world
over.’
These words were uttered with a breadth of candour that
was like the embrace of strong arms—that was like the fra-
grance straight in her face, and by his clean, breathing lips,
of she knew not what strange gardens, what charged airs.
She would have given her little finger at that moment to feel
strongly and simply the impulse to answer: ‘Lord Warbur-
ton, it’s impossible for me to do better in this wonderful
world, I think, than commit myself, very gratefully, to your
loyalty.’ But though she was lost in admiration of her op-
portunity she managed to move back into the deepest shade
of it, even as some wild, caught creature in a vast cage. The
‘splendid’ security so offered her was not the greatest she
could conceive. What she finally bethought herself of saying
was something very different—something that deferred the
need of really facing her crisis. ‘Don’t think me unkind if I
ask you to say no more about this to-day.’
‘Certainly, certainly!’ her companion cried. ‘I wouldn’t
bore you for the world.’
‘You’ve given me a great deal to think about, and I prom-

151