"No one," she answered, and the proud tears flashed down to her cheek, and lay there like rain-drops hanging on the leaves of the wild rose,—"no one. Only, only—"
"Well, dear?"
"You were right, Aunt Matty. That man really had just the feelings you suspected; I could hardly prevent him from expressing them broadly. Keep as close to papa as I would, he found means to say things that made my blood burn. What right has any man to talk of love to a girl, until she has given him some sort of encouragement, I should like to know?"
"But perhaps he fancies that you have given him a little encouragement."
"Encouragement! I? Indeed, Aunt Matty, I never dreamed of this until now!"
"I am sure of it; but then you allowed him to join your rides, and seemed rather pleased."
"Why, the idea that he meant anything never entered my mind. Ah! Aunt Matty, haven't we said a thousand times that there must be some blame, some coquetry on the lady's part, before a man, whom she is sure to reject, could presume to offer himself?"
"But has he gone so far as that?" I asked.
"Let me think. Alas! I was so confused, so angry, that it is impossible to remember just what he did say."
"But your answer?"