“Do;” soothingly, sweetly, imploringly.
Thus pushed to it, Kenelm plucked up courage, and not trusting himself to look at Lily, answered brusquely,—
“The quality desirable for men, but more essential to women in proportion as they are fairy-like, though the tritest thing possible, is good temper.”
Lily made a sudden bound from his side, and joined her aunt, walking through the wet grass.
When they reached the garden-gate, Kenelm advanced and opened it. Lily passed him by haughtily; they gained the cottage-door.
“I don’t ask you in at this hour,” said Mrs. Cameron. “It would be but a false compliment.”
Kenelm bowed and retreated. Lily left her aunt’s side, and came towards him, extending her hand.
“I shall consider your words, Mr. Chillingly,” she said, with a strangely majestic air. “At present I think you are not right. I am not ill-tempered; but—” here she paused, and then added with a loftiness of mien which, had she not been so exquisitely pretty, would have been rudeness—“in any case I forgive you.”