"One moment! What does that package contain?"
"The contents belong exclusively to me—could not possibly interest you—would only challenge your sarcasm, and furnish food for derision. Consequently, Mr. Murray, you must excuse me if I decline your question."
"I'll wager my title to Le Bocage that I can guess so accurately that you will regret that you did not make a grace of necessity and tell me."
A vague terror overshadowed her features as she examined the seals on the package, and replied:
"That, sir, is impossible, if you are the honorable gentleman I have always tried to force myself to believe."
"Silly child! Do you imagine I would condescend to soil my fingers with the wax that secures that trash? That I could stoop to an inspection of the correspondence of a village blacksmith's granddaughter? I will give you one more chance to close the breach between us by proving your trust. Edna, have you no confidence in me?"
"None, Mr. Murray."
"Will you oblige me by looking me full in the face, and repeating your flattering words?"
She raised her head, and though her heart throbbed fiercely as she met his eyes, her voice was cold, steady and resolute.
"None, Mr. Murray."