The Golden Silence

								

well satisfied with that. Everybody says I'm the image of my
grandmother. And you ought to know, after seeing her picture in dozens
of illustrated papers, as well as in that pamphlet poor father
published."
"If you want me to tell you that you are one of the handsomest women who
ever lived, I'll do so at once," said Stephen.
Margot smiled. "You really mean it?"
"There couldn't be two opinions on that subject."
"Then, if you think I'm so beautiful, don't let your brother and his
snobbish Duchess spoil my life."
"They can't spoil it."
"Yes, they can. They can keep me from being a success in their set, your
set--the only set."
"Perhaps they can do that. But England isn't the only country, anyhow.
I've been thinking that when--by and by--we might take a long trip round
the world----"
"Hang the world! England's my world. I've always looked forward to
England, ever since I was a little thing, before mamma died, and I used
to hear father repeating the romantic family story--how, if he could
only find his mother's letters that she'd tried to tell him about when
she was dying, perhaps he might make a legal claim to a title and a
fortune. He used to turn to me and say: 'Maybe you'll be a great lady
when you grow up, Margot, and I shall be an English viscount.' Then,
when he did find the letters, behind the secret partition in
grandmother's big old-fashioned sandal-wood fan-box, of which you've
heard so much----"
"Too much, please, Margot."
"I beg your pardon! But anyway, you see why I want to live in England.
My life and soul are bound up in my success here. And I could have a
success. You know I could. I am beautiful. I haven't seen any woman
whose face I'd change for mine. I won't be cheated out of my
happiness----"
"Very well, we'll live in England, then. That's settled," said Stephen,
hastily. "And you shall have all the success, all the happiness, that I
can possibly give you. But we shall have to get on without any help from
my brother and sister-in-law, and perhaps without a good many other
people you might like to have for friends. It may seem hard, but you
must make up your mind to it, Margot. Luckily, there'll be enough money
to do pleasant things with; and people don't matter so immensely, once
you've got used to----"
"They do, they do! The right people. I shall know them."
"You must have patience. Everybody is rather tired of our names just
now. Things may change some day. I'm ready to begin the experiment
whenever you are."
"You are a dear," said Margot. And Stephen did not even shiver. "That
brings me to what I had to tell you. It's this: after all, we can't be
married quite as soon as we expected."
"Can't we?" he echoed the words blankly. Was this to be a reprieve? But
he was not sure that he wanted a reprieve. He thought, the sooner the
plunge was made, the better, maybe. Looking forward to it had become
almost unbearable.