"Billy, why are you ****** this thing so hard for me?" he asked in despair. "Can't you see that I must go?""Indeed, I can't. And you mustn't go, either. There isn't any reason why you should," urged Billy, talking very fast, and working her fingers nervously. "Things are just the same as they were before--for you. I'm just going to marry William, but I wasn't ever going to marry you, so that doesn't change things any for you.
Don't you see? Why, Bertram, you mustn't go away! There won't be anybody left. Cyril's going next week, you know; and if you go there won't be anybody left but William and me. Bertram, you mustn't go; don't you see? I should feel lost without--you!"Billy was almost crying now.
Bertram looked up quickly. An odd change had come to his face.
For a moment he gazed silently into Billy's agitated countenance;then he asked in a low voice:
"Billy, did you think that after you and William were married Ishould still continue to live at--the Strata?""Why, of course you will!" cried the girl, indignantly. "Why, Bertram, you'll be my brother then--my real brother; and one of the very chiefest things I'm anticipating when I go there to live is the good times you and I will have together when I'm William's wife!"Bertram drew in his breath audibly, and caught his lower lip between his teeth. With an abrupt movement he turned his back and walked to the window. For a full minute he stayed there, watched by the amazed, displeased eyes of the girl. When he came back he sat down quietly in the chair facing Billy. His countenance was grave and his eyes were a little troubled; but the haggard look of misery was quite gone.
"Billy," he began gently, "you must forgive my saying this, but--are you quite sure you--love William?"
Billy flushed with anger.
"You have no right to ask such a question. Of course I love William.""Of course you do--we all love William. William is, in fact, a most lovable man. But William's wife should, perhaps, love him a little differently from--all of us.""And she will, certainly," retorted the girl, with a quick lifting of her chin. "Bertram, I don't think you have any right to--to make such insinuations.""And I won't make them any more," replied Bertram, gravely. "Ijust wanted you to make sure that you--knew.""I shall make sure, and I shall know," said Billy, firmly--so firmly that it sounded almost as if she were trying to convince herself as well as others.
There was a long pause, then the man asked diffidently:
"And so you are very sure that--that you want me to--stay?""Indeed I do! Besides,--don't you remember?--there are all my people to be entertained. They must be taken to places, and given motor rides and picnics. You told me last week that you'd love to help me; but, of course, if you don't want to--""But I do want to," cried Bertram, heartily, a gleam of the old cheerfulness springing to his eyes. "I'm dying to!"The girl looked up with quick distrust. For a moment she eyed him with bent brows. To her mind he had gone back to his old airy, hopeful light-heartedness. He was once more "only Bertram." She hesitated, then said with stern decision:
"Bertram, you know I want you, and you must know that I'm delighted to have you drop this silly notion of going away. But if this quick change means that you are staying with any idea that--that _I_ shall change, then--then you must go. But if you will stay as WILLIAM'S BROTHER then--I'll be more than glad to have you.""I'll stay--as William's brother," agreed Bertram; and Billy did not notice the quick indrawing of his breath nor the close shutting of his lips after the words were spoken.
