"And—surely, then—you like me a little!"
"A little," Lesley breathed, rather than spoke, with an unconscious smile of happiness.
"Can you not call it 'loving?'" asked Maurice, daring for the first time to take her soft little hand in his.
But the question, the look, the touch, suddenly terrified Lesley, and brought back to her mind a long-forgotten promise. What was it her mother had required of her before she left Paris for her father's house? Was it not a pledge that she should not bind herself to marry any man? —that she should not engage herself to be married? Lesley had an instinctive knowledge of the fact that to proclaim her promise would be to cast discredit on Lady Alice; and so, while trying to keep her word, she sought for means to avoid telling the whole truth.
"No, oh no," she said, withdrawing her hand at once and turning away. "Indeed, I could not. Please do not ask me anymore."
The shock was very great to Maurice. He stood perfectly silent for a moment. He had thought that he was making such good progress—and, behold! the wind had suddenly changed; the face of the heavens was overcast. He tried to think that he had been mistaken, and made another attempt to win a favorable hearing.
"Miss Brooke—Lesley—you say you like me a little. Do you not think that your liking for me might grow? When you know that I love you so tenderly, that I would lay down my very life for you, when you can hear all that I can tell you of my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations——"
"I do not want to hear," said Lesley, putting out her hand blindly. "Please do not tell me: it makes me miserable—indeed, I must not listen."
Again Maurice stood silent for a moment.
"Must not listen?" he repeated at length, with a keen look at her. "Why must you not?"