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290
Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
265
“You
are
right.
Never
hesitate
to
curb
me.
And,”
he
said,
touching
the
ring,
“an
idea
has
just
occurred
to
me.
When
the
time
comes,
let
this
be
the
wedding-ring.
Gold
is
gaudy--not
at
all
the
thing
for
a
schoolmaster’s
bride.
It
is
a
pity,”
he
muttered,
examining
her
through
his
spectacles,
“that
your
hair
is
so
golden.
A
schoolmaster’s
bride
should--Good
heavens!
Those
ear-rings!
Where
did
you
get
THEM?”
“They
were
given
to
me
to-day,”
Katie
faltered.
“The
Duke
gave
me
them.”
“Indeed?”
“Please,
sir,
he
gave
me
them
as
a
memento.”
“And
that
memento
shall
immediately
be
handed
over
to
his
executors.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“I
should
think
so!”
was
on
the
tip
of
Noaks’
tongue,
but
suddenly
he
ceased
to
see
the
pearls
as
trinkets
finite
and
inapposite--saw
them,
in
a
flash,
as
things
transmutable
by
sale
hereafter
into
desks,
forms,
black-boards,
maps,
lockers,
cubicles,
gravel
soil,
diet
unlimited,
and
special
attention
to
backward
pupils.
Simultaneously,
he
saw
how
mean
had
been
his
motive
for
repudiating
the
gift.
What
more
despicable
than
jealousy
of
a
man
deceased?
What
sillier
than
to
cast
pearls
before
executors?
Sped
by
nothing
but
the
pulse
of
his
hot
youth,
he
had
wooed
and
won
this
girl.
Why
flinch
from
her
unsought
dowry?
He
told
her
his
vision.
Her
eyes
opened
wide
to
it.
“And
oh,”
she
cried,
“then
we
can
be
married
as
soon
as
you
take
your
degree!”
He
bade
her
not
be
so
foolish.
Who
ever
heard
of
a
head-master
aged
three-and-twenty?
What
parent
or
guardian
would
trust
a
stripling?
The
engagement
must
run
its
course.
“And,”
he
said,
fidgeting,
“do
you
know
that
I
have
hardly
done
any
reading
to-day?”
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