It was enough—further humiliation was spared her. Brian Salwey was not so simple as he had declared. With a sudden brusque movement he laid his hand on her shoulder; his face was white with the pallor of intense emotion, as he looked straight into her eyes and said:
"Am I the right person, Verona?"
Verona's reply was inarticulate but sufficient.
"It seems incredible!" he exclaimed, after a moment's stupefied silence.
The blue campanulas rang their bells, the bamboos whispered, the roses nodded to one another, and the great silver moon slowly slid up from behind the clump of mango trees, raised her broad face over the branches, and stared complacently on this couple in the garden. Here was Mrs. Lepell hurrying back, and as she approached, Verona, whose courage had entirely ebbed, ran into the verandah, and left her companion to break as best he could the news to his aunt.
"So!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell, "I am absent for three minutes, and you seize the opportunity to ask Verona to return to India to marry you! Well, Brian, you have a good conceit of yourself!" This was not, as we are aware, an accurate statement of the case, but Salwey was eminently chivalrous.
"What is this I hear?" demanded her hostess, as she pursued Verona into her room. "Niece to be—or not to be! I do not think I can accord my consent!" and she surveyed her with a smile of good-humoured perplexity.
"Has it been asked, Aunt Liz?" she murmured slyly.
"Verona, you are a most exasperating creature! Do please think of what will be said of me at home—of the match-making woman, who took time by the forelock, and arranged it all with her own nephew—such a wretched parti! Think of what your grandfather will say!"
"No, indeed, I've already had two sets of grandfathers, and I don't care what anyone says—I shall marry to please myself."