“No,” she said, and her eyes were downcast. “No, I have not told him; he would be so surprised and——I will see him first and tell him.”
“All right,” he said. “Then, to-morrow?”
“Yes, to-morrow,” she said, with a little sigh of relief. “I wish I could tell you all he has been to me, how tender and loving—father, mother, brother! Ah, I have had no one else but him in the world, and he has devoted all his life to me!”
“I will never forget that,” said Lord Neville, gravely, “and I will try and thank him to-morrow! Yes, I can understand how hard it will seem to him to have to lose you. But, Doris, he need not do that. He has stood in a father’s place to you; I shall not oust him from it, or separate you from him. There is room in that big heart of yours for both of us, isn’t there?”
She turned to him as if moved by an irresistible impulse, and held out her hands, and her eyes were full of tears.
“If I had not loved you until this moment, I should now,” she said, in a low voice.
Of course, he captured the little quivering hands, and they sat in silence for a minute or two. Then suddenly she started.
“The time!” she exclaimed. “I had forgotten! There is a rehearsal,” and she sprang to her feet. “No, no!” pressing her fingers on his shoulder. “You must not come—not an inch of the way. I—I want to be alone to think—to think!” She stopped, with a little, dazed air, and smiled down at him.
“Oh, if you are tired of me——” he said, with a loving mockery. “To-morrow, Doris, in the morning?”
“Yes, to-morrow—ah, what a long time!” she whispered, almost inaudibly. “Let me think. If I cannot come—there may be a rehearsal——”