"And you will not even give me a word of advice! You understand her so well,—better than any of her own people. Shall I risk all by speaking now? Or shall I wait? Is it too soon? I am depending on what you say."
Half-a-minute's thought I allowed myself, then asked, "Have you spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Romilly?"
"No. I have come to you first. But I have no fear in that direction. Mr. Romilly has more than once intimated his willingness to have me for a son-in-law." This sounded very like Mr. Romilly.
"Then—" I said, "perhaps—the sooner you speak to Thyrza, the better. I only say perhaps.'"
"You do not think I am in too much haste?"
I heard my own laugh ring softly through the cave, mingling with the perpetual roar. Sir Keith smiled, and grasped my hand.
"Thanks—thanks," he said. "I knew I might venture to put the question. You are her best and truest friend."
And he allowed me three minutes' undisturbed enjoyment of the fall. Strange—how the face of Arthur Lenox seemed to rise and mingle with the spray. I cannot always banish it yet.
[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
DIFFERENCES OF VIEW.