“Ask me nothing. You have heard from me this day what I have never told another. But I have confidence in your good faith, and can say, 'If you rue your bargain, there is yet time to say so,' and you may leave this as free as when you entered it.”
“You never mistook a man more. It's not going back I was thinking of; but surely I might ask—”
“Once for all, I will not be questioned. There never lived that man or woman who could thread their way safely through difficulties, if they waited to have every obstacle canvassed and every possible mystery explained. You must leave me to my own guidance here; and one of its first conditions is, not to shake my confidence in myself.”
“Won't you even tell me when we 're to be one?”
“What an ardent lover it is!” said she, laughing. “There, fetch me my shawl, and let me see that you know how to put it properly on my shoulders. No liberties, sir! and least of all when they crush a Parisian bonnet. The evening is falling already, and I must set off homewards.”
“Won't you give me a seat in the carriage with you? Surely, you 'd not see me ride back in such a downpour as that.”
“I should think I would. I 'd leave you to go it on foot rather than commit such an indiscretion. Drive back to Rome with Mr. O'Shea alone! What would the world say? What would Sir William Heathcote say, who expects to make me Lady Heathcote some early day next month?”
“By the way, I heard that story. An old fellow, called Nick Holmes, told me—”
“What old Nick told you could scarcely be true. There, will you order the carriage to the door, and give these good people some money? Ain't you charmed that I give you one of a husband's privileges so early? Don't dare to answer me; an Irishman never has the discretion to reply to a liberty as he ought. Is that poor beast yours?” asked she, as they gained the door, and saw a horse standing, all shivering and wretched, under a frail shed.
“He was this morning, but I had the good luck to sell him before I took this ride.”