“You are wrong,” I replied gravely. “The objections are insurmountable. I can never marry you; but I do care for you, and I can promise you one thing—that I will never, never marry any one else——”
“But me—” (seizing my hand before I was aware). “Then, you will promise that, on your word of honor?”
“Yes; I will never marry any one—but you.”
“And when?”
“When your mother asks me to be her daughter-in-law,” I whispered.
His face fell, and he hastily released me, as at this moment, without knock or cough, the door was flung open, and Miss Skuce burst into the room, with a newspaper in her hand.
“Oh, how do you do, Mr. Somers? I had no idea you were here. Don’t you remember me? I’m Miss Skuce—Dr. Skuce’s sister; he attends the Abbey servants, you know.”
Mr. Somers—who looked very black indeed—merely bowed. Was Miss Skuce abashed? No, not a whit; though even she must have seen that she was greatly de trop.
“So sorry to hear that Miss Chalgrove has met with an accident in the hunting-field. I saw it in the paper. How anxious you must be. I trust it’s not serious.”
“No, I believe not”—surveying her with cold curiosity.