"Just so," said he; "or, rather, not exactly that. I don't mean that I am sacrificed; for, of course, as I have just now said, nothing as regards myself can be more satisfactory. But yesterday should have been a solemn day to us; and as it was not—"
"I thought it very solemn."
"What I mean is that I find an excuse in remembering that I was doing what she asked me to do."
"What she asked you to do, Fred?"
"What I had promised, I mean."
"What you had promised? I did not hear that before." These last words were spoken in a very low voice, but they went direct to Captain Aylmer's ears.
"But you have heard me declare," he said, "that as regards myself nothing could be more satisfactory."
"Fred," she said, "listen to me for a moment. You and I engaged ourselves to each other yesterday as man and wife."
"Of course we did."
"Listen to me, dear Fred. In doing that there was nothing in my mind unbefitting the sadness of the day. Even in death we must think of life, and if it were well for you and me that we should be together, it would surely have been but a foolish ceremony between us to have abstained from telling each other that it would be so because my aunt had died last week. But it may be, and I think it is the case, that the feelings arising from her death have made us both too precipitate."