The green Mummy

Extract: CHAPTER I. THE LOVERS “I am very angry,” pouted the maid. “In heaven’s name, why?” questioned the bachelor. “You have, so to speak, bought me.” “Impossible: your price is prohibitive.” “Indeed, when a thousand pounds—” “You are worth fifty and a hundred times as much. Pooh!” “That interjection doesn’t answer my question.” “I don’t think it is one which needs answering,” said the young man lightly; “there are more important things to talk about than pounds, shillings, and sordid pence.” “Oh, indeed! Such as—” “Love, on a day such as this is. Look at the sky, blue as your eyes; at the sunshine, golden as your hair.” “Warm as your affection, you should say.” “Affection! So cold a word, when I love you.” “To the extent of one thousand pounds.” “Lucy, you are a—woman. That money did not buy your love, but the consent of your step-father to our marriage. Had I not humored his whim, he would have insisted upon your marrying Random.” Lucy pouted again and in scorn. “As if I ever would,” said she. “Well, I don’t know. Random is a soldier and a baronet; handsome and agreeable, with a certain amount of talent. What objection can you find to such a match?” “One insuperable objection; he isn’t you, Archie—darling.” “H’m, the adjective appears to be an afterthought,” grumbled the bachelor; then, when she merely laughed teasingly after the manner of women, he added moodily: “No, by Jove, Random isn’t me, by any manner of means. I am but a poor artist without fame or position, struggling on three hundred a year for a grudging recognition.” “Quite enough for one, you greedy creature.” “And for two?” he inquired softly. “More than enough.” “Oh, nonsense, nonsense, nonsense!” “What! when I am engaged to you? Actions speak much louder than remarks, Mr. Archibald Hope. I love you more than I do money.” “Angel! angel!” “You said that I was a woman just now. What do, you mean?” “This,” and he kissed her willing lips in the lane, which was empty save for blackbirds and beetles. “Is any explanation a clear one?” “Not to an angel, who requires adoration, but to a woman who—Let us walk on, Archie, or we shall be late for dinner.”.....

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