“On you,” he said.
Lady Bell started, and the crimson flush flooded her face and neck. Her lips trembled, and she looked away.
“On me?” she murmured, faintly.
“On you,” said Jack, earnestly. “Lady Bell, I have come back to ask you to be my wife.”
She was silent; her face turned from him, so that he could not see the tears that welled up in her eyes.
Jack took her hand.
“Lady Bell, I know that I am not worthy of you—know it quite well. There isn’t a man in the world who is; I, least of all. I know, too, what the world would say if you should answer ‘Yes.’ It will impute all sorts of base motives to me. But, as Heaven is my witness, it is not for your wealth that I ask you to be my wife. I am poor, and in all sorts of trouble; but if you were poorer than I am I would still ask you.”
“You would?” she murmured.
“Yes,” he said, quietly. “Yes, I can say that, though I tell you in the same breath that I am, at this moment, being hunted for money. And I think you will believe me.”
She made a gesture of assent with her hand.