“If men will, out of mere indolence—no matter,” said she, biting her lip. “I 'll not say what I was going to say.”
“Pray do. I beseech you finish what you have so well begun.”
“Were I to do so, my Lord,” said she, gravely, “it might finish more than that. It might at least go some way towards finishing our acquaintanceship. I 'm sorely afraid you 'd not have forgiven me had you heard me out.”
“I 'd never have forgiven myself, if I were the cause of it.”
For some time they walked along in silence, and now the great house came into view—its windows all glowing and glittering in the blaze of a setting sun, while a faint breeze lazily moved the heavy folds of the enormous flag that floated over the high tower.
“I call that a very princely place,” said he, stopping to admire it.
“What a caprice to have built it in such a spot,” said she. “The country people were not far wrong when they called it Bishop's Folly.”
“They gave it that name, did they?”
“Yes, my Lord. It is one of the ways in which humble folk reconcile themselves to lowly fortune; they ridicule their betters.” And now she gave a little low laugh to herself, as if some unuttered notion had just amused her.
“What made you smile?” asked he.