"I don't dislike coming out at all," she answered. Then there was silence for a moment or two as they walked along into the gloom of the shrubbery. "I suppose you are going down to Norfolk soon?" she said.
"I do not quite know. I thought of going to-morrow."
"So soon as that?"
"But I've got something that I want to settle. I think you must know what it is." Then he paused again, almost as though he expected her to confess that she did know. But Mary was well aware that it was not for her to say another word till he had fully explained in most open detail what it was that he desired to settle. "You know a good deal of my history, Miss Newton. When I thought that things were going well with me,—much better than I had ever allowed myself to expect in early days, I,—I,—became acquainted with you." Again he paused, but she had not a word to say. "I dare say you were not told, but I wrote to your uncle then, asking him whether I might have his consent to,—just to ask you to be my wife." Again he paused, but after that he hurried on, speaking the words as quickly as he could throw them forth from his mouth. "My father died, and of course that changed everything. I told your uncle that all ground for pretension that I might have had before was cut from under me. He knew the circumstances of my birth,—and I supposed that you would know it also."
Then she did speak. "Yes, I did," she said.
"Perhaps I was foolish to think that the property would make a difference. But the truth of it is, I have not got over the feeling, and shall never get over it. I love you with all my heart,—and though it be for no good, I must tell you so."
"The property can make no difference," she said. "You ought to have known that, Mr. Newton."
"Ah;—but it does. I tried to tell you the other day something of my present home."
"Yes;—I know you did;—and I remember it all."
"There is nothing more to be said;—only to ask you to share it with me."