"More supposings, Nansie."
"What else can I say, uncle?"
"Nothing, my dear, and I am to blame for worrying you. We will drop the subject."
"No," said Nansie, earnestly, "please do not drop it."
"Why should we continue it, Nansie?"
"Because," replied Nansie, with a slight flush on her face, "I am afraid you are doing Kingsley an injustice."
"I should be sorry to do that," said Mr. Loveday, very seriously.
"I know you would," responded Nansie, in a tone of affection, "and that is why I want to set you right. You think that Kingsley is concealing something from me. He is not; he loves me too well. You think that I need some one to defend me. I do not. It is only when a person is wronged or oppressed that he needs a defender. No one has ever wronged or oppressed me. On the contrary, every one in the world is kind to me--that is," she added hastily in correction, for she thought of her husband's parents, "every one who knows me. Now you, uncle," she said, wistfully and tenderly, "before I came here I dare say you had no great regard for me."
"I had not, Nansie."
"It was only because you made a promise to my dear father out of your kind heart, and because you are an honorable man who would not break his word, that you welcomed me at first. And perhaps, too," her voice faltered a little here, "because I resemble my mother, for whom you had an affection."