He was sure of Louisa, and this marriage was like fate to him. It filled him also with a blessed feeling of fatality. He was not responsible, neither had her people anything really to do with it.
They ushered him into the little study, which was fireless. By and by the vicar came in. His voice was cold and hostile as he said:
“What can I do for you, young man?”
He knew already, without asking.
Durant looked up at him, again like a sailor before a superior. He had the subordinate manner. Yet his spirit was clear.
“I wanted, Mr. Lindley——” he began respectfully, then all the colour suddenly left his face. It seemed now a violation to say what he had to say. What was he doing there? But he stood on, because it had to be done. He held firmly to his own independence and self-respect. He must not be indecisive. He must put himself aside: the matter was bigger than just his personal self. He must not feel. This was his highest duty.
“You wanted——” said the vicar.
Durant’s mouth was dry, but he answered with steadiness:
“Miss Louisa—Louisa—promised to marry me——”
“You asked Miss Louisa if she would marry you—yes——” corrected the vicar. Durant reflected he had not asked her this:
“If she would marry me, sir. I hope you—don’t mind.”
He smiled. He was a good-looking man, and the vicar could not help seeing it.
