"I hate thanks," said the doctor. "One kind glance of the eye is worth them all, and I've had many such in this house."
"You have our hearts' love, at any rate," said Mrs. Dale.
"God bless you all!" said he, as he prepared to go.
"But I haven't made my speech yet," said Lily. "And to tell the truth, mamma, you must go away, or I shall never be able to make it. It's very improper, is it not, turning you out, but it shall only take three minutes." Then Mrs. Dale, with some little joking word, left the room; but, as she left it, her mind was hardly at ease. Ought she to have gone, leaving it to Lily's discretion to say what words she might think fit to Dr. Crofts? Hitherto she had never doubted her daughters—not even their discretion; and therefore it had been natural to her to go when she was bidden. But as she went downstairs she had her doubts whether she was right or no.
"Dr. Crofts," said Lily, as soon as they were alone. "Sit down there, close to me. I want to ask you a question. What was it you said to Bell when you were alone with her the other evening in the parlour?"
The doctor sat for a moment without answering, and Lily, who was watching him closely, could see by the light of the fire that he had been startled—had almost shuddered as the question was asked him.
"What did I say to her?" and he repeated her words in a very low voice. "I asked her if she could love me, and be my wife."
"And what answer did she make to you?"
"What answer did she make? She simply refused me."
"No, no, no; don't believe her, Dr. Crofts. It was not so;—I think it was not so. Mind you, I can say nothing as coming from her. She has not told me her own mind. But if you really love her, she will be mad to refuse you."