“With Mrs. Fortress?” he repeated. “Did you say you were going with her?”
“Yes; I am going to be her secretary. I thought that she might have told you.”
He was looking rather grave; certainly not pleased.
“I do not see what you want to be any one’s secretary for,” he said, frowning. “You are going to leave here. Eastminster is a very pleasant place.”
“I am afraid I should find it very dull,” I answered. “I only admire cathedral cities from an external point of view. It would bore me horribly to have to live in one.”
He stood there looking down at me in absolute silence. I raised my eyes and met his steadfast gaze. I knew then that what this girl had said was true. Then all of a sudden an unaccountable thing happened. The composure on which I prided myself deserted me. My eyes fell. I could not look at him, my cheeks were flushed; my heart commenced to beat fast; I was taken completely at a disadvantage. He seized the opportunity and commenced to speak.
“Perhaps,” he said, slowly, “you have wondered what has made me so anxious to see you these last few days. I am glad to have an opportunity of telling you. I have been wanting to for some time.”
I would have given a good deal to have been able to stop him, but I could not. I was powerless. I was as much embarrassed as the veriest schoolgirl. He went on—
“I want to ask you to be my wife. Miss Ffolliot. As you know,” he added, with a sudden faint flash of humor, “I am not apt with my tongue. I am afraid that I have allowed myself to rust in many ways. But if you will make the best of me you will make me very happy; for I think you know that I love you very much.”
“No, no,” I cried softly, “you must not say that. I did not wish any one to say that to me. I am not going to marry any one.”