She put her hand to her head. “I know not who is to blame for this,” said she, and she trembled visibly.
“I'll take the blame,” said he, gayly.
Said Ina, very gravely. “You, who do me the honor to offer me your name, have you asked yourself seriously what has been the nature of my relation with Edward Severne?”
“No!” cried Vizard, violently; “and I do not mean to. I see you despise him now; and I have my eyes and my senses to guide me in choosing a wife. I choose you—if you will have me.”
She listened, then turned her moist eyes full upon him, and said to him, “This is the greatest honor ever befell me. I cannot take it.”
“Not take it?”
“No; but that is my misfortune. Do not be mortified. You have no rival in my esteem. What shall I say, my friend?—at least I may call you that. If I explain now, I shall weep much, and lose my strength. What shall I do? I think—yes, that will be best—you shall go with me to-day.”
“To the end of the world!”
“Something tells me you will know all, and forgive me.”
“Shall I take my bag?”