“The other day you proposed an excursion to the site of the Roman villa, and said you would ask Mrs. Cameron to be of the party. Perhaps you have forgotten it?”
“No; but Mrs. Cameron declines. We can ask the Emlyns instead. He will be an excellent cicerone.”
“Excellent! Why did Mrs. Cameron decline?”
Elsie hesitated, and then lifted her clear brown eyes to his face, with a sudden determination to bring matters to a crisis.
“I cannot say why Mrs. Cameron declined, but in declining she acted very wisely and very honourably. Listen to me, Mr. Chillingly. You know how highly I esteem, and how cordially I like you, and judging by what I felt for some weeks, perhaps longer, after we parted at Tor Hadham—” Here again she hesitated, and, with a half laugh and a slight blush, again went resolutely on. “If I were Lily’s aunt or elder sister, I should do as Mrs. Cameron does; decline to let Lily see much more of a young gentleman too much above her in wealth and station for—”
“Stop,” cried Kenelm, haughtily, “I cannot allow that any man’s wealth or station would warrant his presumption in thinking himself above Miss Mordaunt.”
“Above her in natural grace and refinement, certainly not. But in the world there are other considerations which, perhaps, Sir Peter and Lady Chillingly might take into account.”
“You did not think of that before you last saw Mrs. Cameron.”
“Honestly speaking, I did not. Assured that Miss Mordaunt was a gentlewoman by birth, I did not sufficiently reflect upon other disparities.”
“You know, then, that she is by birth a gentlewoman?”