"Oh! Matt, dear," she whispered, "don't even speak of that. I’ll hardly be able to sleep for thinking of all the hussies that might be after you. Of course, I am not unreasonable, dear. I would like you to meet good, earnest women, perhaps lady missionaries or workers in the Christian field out there. A few motherly women out there would be nice for you to know. They would take good care of you,
perhaps darn your socks for you. If you were to let me know, I could write to them."
"Of course, Agnes," he replied, unattractcd by her suggestion and with a strong conviction that such elderly ladies as she had just described would not constitute the society of his selection. "Of course, I can't say I'll meet any one like that. I'll have to see how things are first."
"You'll fall on your feet, all right, Matt," she assured him fondly. "You couldn't help it, the way you get around people. Then your music will be a great help to you socially. Have you got all your songs packed?" He nodded his head complacently, saying, "And the mandolin. I put a new pink ribbon on it yesterday!"
Her sable brows contracted at the thought of those who might receive the benefit of this decoration, knotted on such a romantic instrument, but she did not wish to press him too far; with an effort, she controlled her apprehension and, forcing a smile, deflected the conversation into a nobler channel.
"The church choir will miss you too, Matt. The choir practice won't be the same place without you." He protested modestly, but she would not permit his humility. "No!" she cried, "don't deny it, dear. Your voice will be missed in that church. Do you remember that night after the practice when you first walked home with me, dear? I'll never forget the way you spoke to me. Don't you remember what you said?"
"I can't think the now, Aggie," he answered inattentively. "Did you not speak to me first?"
"Oh! Matt," she gasped, widening her eyes at him reproachfully, "how can you! You know you smiled at me over your hymn book afl that night, and you did speak first. I only asked if you were going my way." He nodded his head apologetically, as he replied, "I remember now, Agnes! We ate all that big bag of liquorice candies you had with you. They were real nice too."
"I'm going to send you out a big tin box of sweets every month," she promised eagerly. "I wasn't going to mention it, but as you speak of it, I might as well tell you, dear. I know you're fond of a good sweet and you'll never get good confectionery out in those parts. They'll carry perfectly well if I send them in a tin." He thanked her with a satisfied smile but, before he could speak, she hurried on, striking on the heat of his gratitude.
"There's nothing your Agnes will not do for you, Matt, if you just don't forget her," she continued fervently. "You Ye never to forget me for a minute. You've got all my photographs with you! Put one in your cabin straight away, won't you, dear?" She laid her head more heavily on his shoulder and gazed up at him entrancingly. "Kiss me, Matt! That was nice. It's so delightful to feel that we are engaged. It's almost as binding as matrimony. No good girl could feel like I do without being affianced to her young man."
The couch being apparently without springs, Matt began to feel uncomfortable under the considerable weight he was supporting. His calf-love for Miss Moir, developed under the insidious flattery of her attentions, was not strong enough to stand the strain of this powerful amatory embrace.
"Would you permit me to smoke?" he suggested tactfully. Agnes looked up, her liquid eyes swimming beneath the inky tangle of her hair.
"On the last night?" she asked reproachfully.
"I thought it might pull me together," he murmured. "The last few days have been very heavy for me all that packing has been such a strain on a man."
She sighed and raised herself reluctantly, saying:
"All right then, dear! I can refuse you nothing. Have just a few puffs if you feel it will do you good. But you're not to over-smoke yourself in India, Matt. Remember your chest is not strong." Then, graciously, she added, "Let me light this one for you as it's the last time." She timidly ignited the slightly bent weed he withdrew from his waistcoat pocket and watched him fearfully as he blew out thick clouds in manful taciturnity. Now she could only love and admire him from a distance, but at arm's length she still fondled his watch chain.
"You'll miss your little Aggie, won't you, Matt?" she asked soulfully, but coughing slightly as she inhaled the noxious odour from his cigar.
"Most dreadfully," he replied solemnly. This was what he really enjoyed, himself smoking heroically, she at his feet in fond womanly admiration. "It will be unbearable." He would have liked to say, dashingly, "Hell", but out of respect he used the less manly expression, and he shook his head as if he doubted his ability to stand the strain of it all.
"We must suffer for each other's sake," said Agnes, with a sigh. "I feel it will make you do great and good work out there, Matt. You'll write and tell me all your doings."
"I'll write to you and Mamma every mail," promised Matthew.
"I'll be in close touch with Mamma, of course," responded Agnes, as if she were already a daughter of the house.
He felt that the prayers of two loyal adoring women would ascend in unison for him as he faced his stern task abroad, but the cigar, despite his efforts to prolong it, was burning his lips, and at length he regretfully discarded it. Immediately Agnes nestled her head upon his chest. "Kiss me again, dear!" she said. Then, after a pause, she whispered, suggesting alluringly, "You'll come back to me a big, strong, fierce man, won't you, Matt? I like to be crushed hard in your arms, as hard as -ever you like." As he placed a limp arm around her shoulders he felt somehow that too much was being demanded of a man who had to face the perils of an arduous and unknown journey in the morning.
"I'm really ashamed to show my feelings like this," she continued bashfully, "but there's no harm in it, Matt, is there? We'll be married whenever you come back. Indeed, it breaks my heart to think we couldn't have got married before ye left. I would willingly have gone out with you!"
"But, Agnes," he protested, "it's not the country for a white woman, at all."
"There's plenty go out there, Matt, plenty! Officers' wives, and what not! I'll go back with you if you've got to go out again when your time's up," she said firmly. "It's just the fact that you've got to make your way that has hindered us, dear."
He was silent, startled at the decision in her words, never having viewed himself as being so near the altar, nor having quite suspected the extent of her ascendancy over him, thinking, too, that the embrace was being protracted indefinitely. At length he said:
"I'm afraid I must be going now, Aggie."
"But it's so early yet, Matt," she asserted petulantly. "You never leave before ten o'clock as a rule."
"I know, Agnes, but I've got a big day ahead of me to-morrow," he replied importantly. "Got to get on the packet by noon."
"This separation is going to kill me," said Agnes dramatically, unwillingly releasing him.
As he stood up, straightening his tie, shaking down his trousers, and inspecting the damage to his creases, he felt that it was worth while, that it was good to know that women would die for him.
"Good-bye, then, Agnes," he exclaimed gallantly, straddling his legs and throwing out both hands towards her. "We shall meet again." She flung herself again into his proffered arms and buried her head against him, whilst the force of her sobs rocked them both.
"I feel I should never let you go," she cried brokenly, as he separated from her. "I should never give you up like this. You're going too far away. I'll pray for you, though, Matt! May God take care of you for me," she wept as she saw him down the stairs.
Out again in the street he felt consoled, uplifted, strengthened by her grief, as though the devastation he had wrought within her virgin heart ennobled him, added inches to his stature. But as he retired early to bed in preparation for the fatigues of the next day, he reflected in his more mature and worldly vein that perhaps Miss Moir had been lately a little pressing in her attentions upon him, and as he fell asleep, he realised that a man might as well think twice before tying himself up in a hurry, especially if that man were such a knowing blade as Matthew Brodie.