"I've been wondering," he said after a little time. "I've been wondering . . ." and then he coughed suddenly. "Would you come with me to New York?"
At this speech Ellen looked at him with a sudden penetrating glance, as if she failed to understand his meaning. Then, with the caution of a proud nature, she said, "But you see, I haven't enough money yet. It takes money for a girl alone in a city." She did not expose herself to the peril of being hurt.
But Clarence, now that he was started, rushed on, "I don't mean that . . . I mean . . . would you marry me? Would you come as my wife?"
The sound of the distant skating had died away until by now only the faintest ring of steel singing upon the ice was borne by the rising wind into the little cove. In the darkness Ellen bowed her head and sat thus silently for a long time. Her thoughts, whatever they may have been, were interrupted presently by the sound of Clarence's voice, softer this time, and less frightened, though it still carried a timidity, almost the abjectness of an apology.
"I could help you. . . . I could make money and you could go on with your music. You see, this didn't come over me suddenly. I've thought about it before . . . ever since I saw you that first time."
There was nothing in the least dominating in his manner. He sat there at a proper distance from her, mild and gentle, pleading his case. It was clear that he was even a little frightened, as if he had spoken almost without willing it. But the little vein in his throat which Lily had noticed so long before began to throb, slowly at first and then with steadily mounting rapidity. If Lily had been there, she would have understood its significance as surely as a ship's captain watching his barometer in a storm. Lily understood such things.
