Madeline turned upon him sharply.
"Mr. Early," she said, "it isn't wholly courteous in you to take
advantage of my being alone with you in your own domain to speak to me
in this way."
"I beg your pardon," Sebastian answered. "It was a wholly unpremeditated
expression of what has long been an ardent desire. I did not mean to
speak, but your own words seemed to break down the barriers of my
passion. I could wish that you would permit me to put it in the form
which my heart prompts; but perhaps you are right. Your fine sense of
the proprieties must be my rule of conduct. I shall only trust that I
may soon find a time to speak when I shall not offend your delicacy,
and when, I pray, I may not offend your heart."
"Neither now nor at any other time should I advise you to go any
further," said Madeline laughingly, for it was hard to take the bombast
of Mr. Early very seriously. He made her think now of a sort of pouter
pigeon. And Sebastian remained only partly satisfied as to the effect
which he wished to produce. He wanted to give her something to think
about, and so make way for the more impassioned wooing that he was
resolved should follow. He was convinced that to stand alone with him in
the midst of his splendors would make a strong impression on the mind of
any sensible girl. The great hall was certainly a place to capture the
imagination--not only from its stately proportions and the mellow
coloring that melted into shadow in the far-off roof, but from the
multitude of smaller details, the intricate carvings, gathered abroad or
made under Mr. Early's own eye, the few priceless paintings, the great
jars whose exquisite decorations blended their richer tones with the
deeper shades around. In a wide alcove was gathered a collection of
portraits of distinguished men and women, statesmen, artists and
literati of this country and of Europe, and each picture was accompanied
by an autograph letter to the well-beloved Sebastian Early. It could be
no small thing to contemplate the possession of this house of
notabilities and of the man who had built it up around himself. This,
Mr. Early meant, should be the artistic opening of his campaign. And
Miss Elton had laughed.
There was silence for a long minute, and Madeline, glancing nervously at
her host, saw that his face was grave and that his eyes were fixed upon
her in a melancholy way. She began to feel uncomfortable.
"I think I must be going now," she said.
"You have not told me whether I am to keep the tapestries," Mr. Early
humbly objected.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly decide for you. But they seem to harmonize
beautifully with this room."