George was silent, setting his lips tightly as though to keep down some bitter feeling.
"Yes, you will be rich," he said at last; "you will be only too rich."
"I really believe you mean it as a reproach," pouted the young lady, with a highly ungracious look.
"No; but it opens out one more gap between us. If you were in the same position of life as myself, I might come to you fearlessly, and ask, not for your hand at once, perhaps, but for your plighted faith, until such time as I could offer you a home of your own. As it is, what would Baron von Raven say, I wonder, if I ventured to propose to him for the hand of his ward and presumptive heiress? He stands in your father's place. You are under his authority."
"Yes; but only until I come of age. In a few years, my lord's guardianship and authority will expire together. Then I shall be free."
"In a few years!" echoed George. "And what will be your feelings then?"
There was such sorrowful apprehension in his words that Gabrielle looked up half-frightened, half-offended.
"George, do you doubt my love?"
He clasped her hand tightly in his.
"I have faith in you, my Gabrielle; trust me in return. I am not the first man who has worked his way up, and I have always been taught to look forward with confidence, and to depend on my own strength. I will strain every nerve for your sake. You shall not be ashamed of your choice."