“My poor child! I will put the globe between us.”
“And let me be the means of separating an only brother and sister? No! Go back to your sister, and marry some one who represents her idea of respectability—Miss Houghton, for instance—and be sure that family approval and society will bless you forever after.”
“Thank you for the suggestion,” said Herbert dryly. “I am, however, neither marrying my sister nor her ideas.”
“No, I don’t think you’re marrying anybody at present.”
“And am not likely to, you doubtless mean to suggest? Elsie, what makes you punish me so?”
“I am only paying you what I owe you.”
“That is honest; now give me back the heart you’ve stolen.”
“I have no heart to give.”
“Elsie Murchison!” exclaimed Herbert with a new sternness, “I have one question more to ask you, and I demand a straightforward answer. Tell me by all the truth in your nature—do you love me?”
Driven to bay, Elsie stood alternately flushing and paling, and with her frame in such a quiver of excitement that the hand which rested on the rocker shook perceptibly. “I decline to answer,” she finally faltered. “You have no right to question a foregone conclusion. I have told you I will not marry you.”