"Well, how do you like the first item in my programme?" he asked, taking my hand for a moment between his. "A tête-à-tête breakfast was not a bad idea, was it?"
"Does Lady St. Maurice know?" I asked, suddenly conscious of the utter impropriety of what we were doing.
He laughed reassuringly.
"Of course she does, sweetheart. In fact, she as good as suggested it. She thinks you feel a little strange about it all, and that a long, quiet day alone with me would help you to realize matters. Accordingly, I am having a luncheon basket packed, and after breakfast we are going for a sail, just you and I. You see the sea is as calm as a duck pond this morning. Shall you like it, do you think?"
Like it! Oh! how long was this mockery to go on! How long before I could find strength to tell him the truth—that this thing could never be! I tried to tell him then, but the words died away upon my lips. I would give myself one more day. After that there must be action of some sort or other. My uncle's reply would have come, and I should know exactly what lay before me.
"I should like it, yes," I answered, looking into my lover's handsome, glowing face. "You are sure that your mother will not mind—that she approves?"
"Quite," he answered confidently. "We talked it over together for some time. To-night I am going to speak to my father. He has an inkling of it already, but he will expect me to tell him. Dearest, there is nothing to be frightened about. Why should you tremble so? You are not well?"
"I shall be better out of doors," I answered faintly. "I will get my hat, and we will start."
He rose up at once, and opened the door for me.
"Do. There must be a little pink coloring in those cheeks before we get back," he said fondly.