“Dear John, do not be offended, but we must not talk on that subject. I know what you would say, but ‘tis useless; I cannot believe you.”
“But, Lulie, perhaps you do not know how important it is that we should speak on this subject. Will you answer another question, then? Do you believe that Frank loves you?”
She drew her head back with the merest touch of pride, and said, with a tinge of steel in her tone:
“Yes, I do believe he loves me, because he has proved it in a thousand ways; and I do not fear to answer your first question. I do love him with all my heart. There! that confession is unladylike, but I make it to you alone.”
I bowed in acknowledgment and continued:
“Pardon me again, Lulie dear, for pursuing my catechism. You were in the library last night?”
“Yes!”
“Do you know the character of those to whom Frank introduced you, and with whom he forced you to spend an hour?”
She made no reply, but I could feel her hand growing cold as the blood left it for her burning cheeks.