Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story

“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?”