"They shall not at any rate be heard. I don't know whether there was any spice of malice about my brother when he asked me to come here, and told me in the same letter that you were at Scroope."
"He must have meant it for malice, I should think," said the young lady, endeavouring, but not quite successfully, to imitate the manner of the man who loved her.
"Of course I came."
"Not on my behalf, I hope, Mr. Neville."
"Altogether on your behalf. Fred's need to see me was not very great, and, as my uncle had not asked me, and as my aunt, I fancy, does not altogether approve of me, I certainly should not have come,—were it not that I might find it difficult to get any other opportunity of seeing you."
"That is hardly fair to Lady Scroope, Mr. Neville."
"Quite fair, I think. I did not come clandestinely. I am not ashamed of what I am doing,—or of what I am going to do. I may be ashamed of this,—that I should feel my chance of success to be so small. When I was here before I asked you to—allow me to love you. I now ask you again."
"Allow you!" she said.
"Yes;—allow me. I should be too bold were I to ask you to return my love at once. I only ask you to know that because I was repulsed once, I have not given up the pursuit."
"Mr. Neville, I am sure that my father and mother would not permit it."