"You can trust me?" he said, in a still lower voice.
"Oh, yes," she said—"I am sure I can trust you! It was only for a moment—you must not mind what I said. You will it set all right when you know."
He was silent, seeing that she had grasped his meaning more quickly than he had anticipated, and had, in fact, accepted him, quite simply and confidently, as her husband that was to be. Her child-like trust was at that moment very bitter to him. He bent his head and kissed her forehead as a father might have done.
"My dear Enid," he said, "we must remember that you are very young. I feel that I may be taking advantage of your inexperience—as if some day you might reproach me for it."
"I told you I did not feel young," she said gently; "but perhaps I cannot judge. Do what you please."
The listlessness in her voice almost angered Hubert.
"Do you not love me then?" he asked.
"Oh, yes—I always loved you!" said the girl. But there was no look of a woman's love in her grave eyes. "You were always so kind to me, dear cousin Hubert; and indeed I feel as if I could trust you absolutely. You shall decide for me in everything."
There was certainly relief in her tone; but Hubert had looked for something more.
"I have been wanting to speak to you for several days," he said, "but I have never had the opportunity before; and I must tell you, dear, that I spoke to the General before I spoke to you."