About one thing we were
clear: if he was staying on for fuller communication we should at
least have a letter from him that would help us through the dregs
of delay. We understood his staying on, and yet each of us saw, I
think, that the other hated it. The letter we were clear about
arrived; it was for Gwendolen, and I called on her in time to save
her the trouble of bringing it to me. She didn't read it out, as
was natural enough; but she repeated to me what it chiefly
embodied. This consisted of the remarkable statement that he'd
tell her after they were married exactly what she wanted to know.
"Only THEN, when I'm his wife--not before," she explained. "It's
tantamount to saying--isn't it?--that I must marry him straight
off!" She smiled at me while I flushed with disappointment, a
vision of fresh delay that made me at first unconscious of my
surprise. It seemed more than a hint that on me as well he would
impose some tiresome condition. Suddenly, while she reported
several more things from his letter, I remembered what he had told
me before going away. He had found Mr. Vereker deliriously
interesting and his own possession of the secret a real
intoxication. The buried treasure was all gold and gems. Now that
it was there it seemed to grow and grow before him; it would have
been, through all time and taking all tongues, one of the most
wonderful flowers of literary art.
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