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76 A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY
On the day when Fitch came down to Caroline with his verses,
Brandon had pressed these unworthy propositions upon her. She
had torn herself violently away from him, and rushed to the door ;
but the poor little thing fell before she could reach it, screaming
in a fit of hysterics, which brought Becky to her aid, and caused
Brandon to leave her, abashed. He went out; she watched him
go, and stole up into his room, and laid on his table the first letter
she had ever written to him. It was written in pencil, in a trembling
schoolgirl hand, and contained simply the following words :—
" George, you have almost broken my heart. Leave me if you
will, and if you dare not act like an honest man. If ever you
speak to me so again as you did this morning, I declare solemnly
before Heaven, I will take poison. C."
Indeed, the poor thing had read romances to some purpose ;
without them, it is probable, she never would have thought of
such a means of escape from a lover's persecutions ; and there was
something in the girl's character that made Brandon feel sure that
she would keep her promise. How the words agitated him ! He
felt a violent mixture of raging disappointment and admiration,
and loved the girl ten thousand times more than ever.
Mr. Brandon had scarcely finished the reading of this document,
and was yet agitated by the various passions which the perusal of
it created, when the door of his apartment was violently flung open,
and some one came in. Brandon started, and turned round, with a
kind of dread that Caroline had already executed her threat, and
that a messenger was come to inform him of her death. Mr.
Andrea Fitch was the intruder. His hat was on—his eyes were
glaring ; and if the beards of men did stand on end anywhere but
in poems and romances, his, no doubt, would have formed round
his countenance a bristling auburn halo. As it was, Fitch only
looked astonishingly fierce, as he stalked up to the table, his hands
behind his back. When he had arrived at this barrier between
himself and Mr. Brandon, he stopped, and, speechless, stared that
gentleman in the face.
"May I beg, Mr. Fitch, to know what has procured me the
honour of this visit ?" exclaimed Mr. Brandon, after a brief pause
of wonder.
" Honour !—ha, ha, ha!" growled Mr. Fitch, in a most sardonic,
discordant way—" honour ! "
" Well, sir, honour or no honour, I can tell you, my good man,
it certainly is no pleasure!" said Brandon testily. "In plain
English, then, what the devil has brought you here ?"