Enid laughed in his face.
"Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield, better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound."
He caught her by the hands.
"Really—truly—Enid? You love him?"
"Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart and soul!"—and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement.
"And are you happy?"
"Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia—is not that true?"
"Enid, you are a witch!"
"And she loves you?"
He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of tone, he said—