Anthony Trollope: Barchester Towers

48. CHAPTER XLVIII: MISS THORNE SHOWS HER TALENT FOR MATCH-MAKING (continued)

'Indeed I took no offence, Mr Arabin.'

'Oh, but you did! And had you not done so, you would not have been yourself. You were as right to be offended, as I was wrong to so offend you. I have not forgiven myself, but I hope to hear that you forgive me.'

She was now past speaking calmly, though she still continued to hide her tears, and Mr Arabin, after pausing a moment in vain for her reply, was walking off towards the door. She felt that she could not allow him to go unanswered without grievously sinning against all charity; so, rising from her seat, she gently touched his arm and said: 'Oh, Mr Arabin, do not go till I speak to you! I do forgive you. You know that I forgive you.'

He took the hand that had so gently touched his arm, and then gazed into her face as if he would peruse there, as though written in a book, the whole future destiny of his life; and as he did so, there was a sober and seriousness in his own countenance, which Eleanor found herself unable to sustain. She could only look down upon the carpet, let her tears trickle as they would, and leave her hand within his.

It was but for a minute that they stood so, but the duration of that minute was sufficient to make it ever memorable to both. Eleanor was sure now that she was loved. No words, be their eloquence what it might, could be more impressive than that eager, melancholy gaze.

Why did he look into her eyes? Why did he not speak to her? Could it be that he looked for her to make the first sign?

And he, though he knew little of women, even he knew that he was loved. He had only to ask and it would be all his own, that inexpressible loveliness, those ever speaking but yet now mute eyes, that feminine brightness and eager loving spirit which had so attracted him since first he had encountered it at St Ewold's. It might, must all be his own now. On no other supposition was it possible that she should allow her hand to remain thus clasped within his own. He had only to ask. Ah! but that was the difficulty. Did a minute suffice for all this? Nay, perhaps it might be more than a minute.