Her face did not change, not a muscle moved. She simply regarded him with cold incredulity, and the amazement which one expresses at the impertinence of an inferior.
“You don’t believe me; but I did. You must know—you must have seen,” he went on, huskily, his hands clasping and unclasping each other, “that—that I loved you. I do love you; I’ve loved you ever since—Olivia, won’t you say a word? Don’t, for Heaven’s sake, don’t stare at me like that! Your father did not treat me like this——”
“My father?” she said, after a pause. “You told my father what you have told me?”
“Yes, I did. I know what’s proper, and I went and told him before I spoke to you. And now, Olivia, now you know, what do you say? Wait a moment. I—I’m afraid I haven’t done the best for myself. I’m—I’m not a lady’s man, and I’ve sprung it upon you too sharply. But it was dangerous, this hanging about and waiting, and—and I got anxious. But you know it now. I’m not a bad sort of fellow, I fancy, and I can offer you——”
She rose from the seat and moved toward the door. He stood in front of her, desperate—imploring.
“Let me pass, please,” she said, quietly.
“Wait, wait!” he exclaimed, huskily. “You’re treating me badly, like the dirt under your feet, by Heaven! This isn’t the way I was treated by your father.”
Olivia stopped and looked at him.
“You are right and I am wrong,” she said. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Bradstone! This is not the way my father would treat you. Whatever he may have felt, he would have behaved with courtesy. Yes, I beg your pardon! You tell me that”—she paused, as if the words cost her an effort—“that you love me, and ask me to be your wife?”
“I do, I do!” he broke in. “I love you to distraction! I haven’t a thought in the world but you! You are just life to me; I swear it! I’ve told the squire what I will do—I’d spend my last penny in making you happy! I’d lay down my life——”