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Updated: June 17, 2025
So long as it was uncertain whether she loved him or not, he was willing to say nothing. But when he was perfectly sure that there was no hope for him, he resolved to speak. In vain his Aunt Winnifred had tried to cheer him. Ever since the morning when he had told her in his studio the lovely legend of Latmos he could not persuade himself that he had not unwittingly told his own story.
"Say not so," cried the Marchioness. "Our son, Lord Mordaunt Muddlenut, is young, handsome, all that a girl could desire. After months of wandering he returns to us this morning. It is our dearest wish to see him married and established. We offer you his hand." "Indeed," replied Winnifred, while her tears fell even more freely, "I seem to requite but ill the kindness that you show.
"I lost it in a marginal option in an undeveloped oil company. I suppose that means nothing to you." "Alas," sighed Winnifred, "nothing." "Very good," resumed the Lawyer. "Here next we have a statement in regard to the thousand pounds left you under the will of your maternal grandmother. I lost it at Monte Carlo. But I need not fatigue you with the details." "Pray spare them," cried the girl.
"They do," said the Landlady. "They said so!" "Alas!" cried Winnifred, "I am powerless. Tell them" she hesitated "tell them I will be down immediately. Let them not come up. Show them an album. Let them look at the goldfish. Anything, but not here! I shall be ready in a moment." Feverishly she made herself ready. As hastily as possible she removed all traces of tears from her face.
If I have done aught to deserve the gratitude of one who, whoever she is, will remain for ever present as a bright memory in the breast of one in whose breast such memories are all too few, he is all too richly repaid. If she does that, he is blessed indeed." "She does. He is!" cried Winnifred, deeply moved. "Here on her knees she blesses him. And now," she added, "we must part.
Toxer, had been in, and Aunt Winnifred had discussed her favorite theme until Mrs. Toxer went home with a vague idea that all the young and beautiful unmarried women in the city were secretly pining away for love of Arthur Merlin. "Mercy me, now!" said Aunt Winnifred as she lay listening to the creaking step of her nephew.
Well, well, thought the old lady, if interest in his pursuit makes a great painter, my dear nephew will be a great man. During the course of the story Arthur paused several times, evidently lost in reverie perhaps tracing the analogy. When he ended there was a moment's silence. Then Aunt Winnifred looked kindly at him, and said: "Well?"
Seek not to follow me. One who has aided a poor girl in the hour of need will respect her wish when she tells him that, alone and buffeted by the world, her one prayer is that he will leave her." "He will!" cried the Unknown. "He will. He does." "Leave me, yes, leave me," exclaimed Winnifred. "I will," said the Unknown. "Do, do," sobbed the distraught girl. "Yet stay, one moment more.
Let she, who has received so much from her benefactor, at least know his name." "He cannot! He must not!" exclaimed the Indistinguishable. "His birth is such but enough!" He tore his hand from the girl's detaining clasp and rushed forth from the place. Winnifred Clair was alone. Winnifred was now in the humblest lodgings in the humblest part of London.
"Late again! Winnifred Blake, I am ashamed of you; come, run as fast as you can;" and scolding herself vigorously, Winnie changed her leisurely step to a brisk trot which brought her to the schoolhouse door exactly fifteen minutes after the hour.
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