“Why should I?” said I. “Is there Anything to be angry about?”
“Perhaps you may think so,” said he, “when you come to know all. Dear Cherry, I’m in Love!” And laughed, and then was silent.
I never felt so perplexed what to say next. “I don’t see that is any Matter of mine,” said I at length.
“Don’t you, though? But that depends upon whom I’m in Love with!” said he, smiling. “If it were with Anybody a hundred Miles off, that you had never seen or heard of, you might say it was no Matter of yours; but, Cherry, she’s not one Mile off! She’s the prettiest Girl on the Bridge!”
“Then,” said I, turning scarlet as I spoke, “it must certainly be Violet Armytage!”
“It is!” cried he rapturously. “What a Guesser you are!—Dear Cherry!”
Oh! what a Bound my Heart gave; and then seemed to stop! For,—I’m only speaking to myself; to myself I may own the Truth—I had not thought he meant Violet!
“Ah,” said he, after a long Silence, which I was as unable as he was disinclined to break, “I dare say you’ve seen it all along—I may have told you no News—you are such a good Secret-keeper, Cherry!”
I could not yet say a Word—He had taken my Hand and wrung it; and I gently pressed his in Sign of Sympathy; it was all I could do, but it was quite enough.
“How kind you are!” said he. “What do you think my Uncle will say?”