"Him! Love him! A man who courts you clandestinely, who has not the courage or the desire to do so openly. Has he spoken to your aunt? Come, what has he done? Has he asked your hand in marriage of your only guardian? Or is he playing fast and loose with you? It would not be the first time he had played that game. Why, there are tales of him in the village."
Agatha made a gesture of contempt.
"There are no tales of Dr. Dillwyn in this village or any other," she said. "As for his speaking to Mrs. Greatorex, he would have spoken to her to-day but that I forbade him. He will speak to her to-morrow."
"So he says, no doubt. But even if he does speak—what then? Will Mrs. Greatorex listen to the proposals of a pauper?"
"She will, I am sure, listen to the proposals of a gentleman."
She had not meant this as a cut to him, but it went home. He writhed under it.
"She will listen to me," said he. "To me only—though I may not be what you in your arrogance class as a gentleman."
"Dr. Darkham. I assure you—I—" She was shocked at his reading of her words. Her face, pale and beautiful, turned to him full of contrition. It seemed terrible to her, to have even inadvertently hurt the feelings of any one. "I did not mean that."
This sudden change on her part, from extreme coldness to a faint kindness, came as the dew from heaven to Darkham. This little touch of sweetness, what might it not lead to if he pleaded with her? Pleaded with all his soul—for his soul!
"Agatha!" cried he, "hear me. I beseech you to hear me. Everything is against me; I know that; but you—if you could only understand what you are to me!"