"Ah," he said, kicking savagely at a clump of nettles, "what an imbecile I was! But at least you must have known that there was a mistake."
"Oh, certainly," I stammered, growing scarlet as I remembered the tender epithet with which the note had begun.
"Then may I ask," he continued, "why you did not give it to your cousin when you found it was intended for her?"
"Because I prefer to return it to you," I said boldly, "and to ask you not to send such notes to Agneta, nor try to see her, when you know it is her parents' wish that you should not meet, and no good can come of such underhand ways."
"Agneta did not tell you to say that to me," he replied defiantly.
"She did not," I answered. "Agneta is far from well this afternoon, and she is lying down in her room at the present moment. She was quite otherwise occupied, as it happened, but this I could not know. I do not know how you come to be here," I added, "but I should advise you to leave this neighbourhood, and be content to wait till you can see Agneta with her parents' consent."
As I spoke I attempted to pass him, and go on my way; but, with an ironical laugh, he turned on his heel and walked beside me.
"Excuse my laughing, Miss Darracott; your words struck me as deliciously naive!" he said. "Don't you know that I might wait till doomsday before I should win that consent, since I have the misfortune to be poor, and the Redmaynes love money above all things—a characteristic that by no means renders them singular."
"You cannot be sure that their minds would not change," I said, "and I am sure it must be right for you to wait at present. It seems to me that you are bound in honour to seek no pledge from Agneta until she comes of age. You forget how young she is."
"Are you so much older, Miss Darracott?" he asked with a disagreeable smile, as he bent towards me, his dark eyes seeking mine with insolent raillery in their glance. "'Oh, wise young judge! How much more elder art thou than thy looks!'"