"Yes. By the by, she did not seem surprised at seeing you here to-day, although she thought you safe in town, as we all did,—you deceitful boy."
"Did she not?"
"No. But then, of course, it was a matter of indifference to her."
"Of course."
They have reached the entrance to the vicarage by this time, and are pausing to say farewell for a few hours.
"I shall come up to Gowran to-morrow morning first thing, and speak to your father: is that what you will wish me to do?" asks Horace, her hand in his.
"Yes. But, Horace," looking at him earnestly, "I think I should like to tell it all to papa myself first, this evening."
"Very well, dearest. Do whatever makes you happiest," returns he, secretly pleased that the ice will be broken for him before his prepares for his mauvais quart-d'heure in the library. "And if he should refuse his consent, Clarissa, what then? You know you might make so much a better marriage."
"Might I?"—tenderly. "I don't think so; and papa would not make me unhappy."