‘I must wait,’ she said. ‘I—I don’t know you well enough. I don’t understand you. You are too light. You are too careless. I don’t know how far I can believe you.’
‘Oh!’ he cried, ‘believe me altogether, dear. I love you with all my heart and soul!’
She moved to the middle of the room, and sheltered herself behind a table which stood there.
‘I hardly know whether you have a heart,’ she answered then. ‘You fancy you feel all you say,’ she added quickly. ‘You feel it for the minute.’
He stood at the other side of the table with brows suddenly grown gloomy.
‘I shall feel it all my life,’ he said. ‘It’s the one thing I’ve ever been in earnest about. I never thought I should feel as I do. If you like to wait, dear, before answering me, I’ll wait just as long as ever you please.’ His gloom was gone, and he was all eagerness and vivacity again. ‘There’s nothing I won’t do for your asking. I’ll cure every fault I’ve got. I’ll be everything you’d like to have me. Try me, darling. Wait and see. But give me only just a little bit of hope. Don’t send me away quite hungry. Tell me you care for me just a little—not as I care for you—I don’t expect that. It doesn’t stand to reason yet awhile you should.’
There she shot one swift glance at him, averting her gaze at once.
‘I won’t say I don’t like you,’ she answered with a candour half rustic, half characteristic of herself ‘But I won’t answer yes or no just yet.’
‘Very well, dear,’ he answered tenderly. ‘You shall have time to know if I’m in earnest, or if I’ve taken nothing more than a passing fancy. Shall I ask you again this day six months?’
‘I won’t promise you an answer then,’ she said. ‘I will answer you when I am certain.’