While I was thus sitting, all alone save for Dolly in the Kitchen, and Master Blower on the first Story, Mark comes in and gives me a Posy, saying, “Violet sends you these Flowers:” and then remained, with his Hand resting on the Back of my Chair.
I know not how long we thus remained, quite silent, and I conscious of great Pleasure in his Presence; till at last, for want of Anything more important to say, I observed, “How pleasant the Evening Air is coming over the Water!”
“Very,” said he, without seeming to be thinking much about it: and again we were both quiet.
“Cousin,” said he at length, in a very gentle Voice,—which was not his usual Way of addressing me, for in common he called me Cherry,—
—“Dear Cousin, I have something to say to you”—and stopped.
“What is it, Mark?” said I, softly.
“We have lived long together,” began he again, faintly laughing, “and I never felt afraid of speaking to you, before—How odd it is that I should feel so, now!”
“What have you to be afraid about?” said I, looking up at him: on which he coloured and looked away; and I did the same, without knowing why.
“You have always been my Friend,” resumed he, taking Courage; “you will not be angry with me?”