“If—if—you wish it, papa,” she said, with visible hesitancy.
The old man glanced at her with a quick searching look.
“Does that mean you would not wish it yourself?”
“I—I—hardly know. I had not thought of it. Eustace was very kind to me when he was here; but——”
Again she faltered in a way that was not much like her, and her father, watching her with a newly awakened interest, said gently—
“I do not wish to distress you, my dear. Perhaps there is something in this that I do not understand. I have no wish to force your confidence. We will say no more about it.”
But Bride rose quickly, and came and knelt down beside her father, turning her sweet trustful face up to his.
“Papa, do not speak so, please—as though I would not tell you everything in my heart. I think I should like you to know. I did not say anything at first—I did not know whether Eustace might have done so or not, for he went the very same day, and I think just when it happened I could not have talked about it. But before he went he told me that he loved me, and he asked me to be his wife; but I could not, and so he went away; and I do not know whether he will ever come back any more. That is why I do not know what to say about asking him for Christmas.”
The Duke was silent for many minutes, stroking Bride’s soft hair with gentle fingers, and looking very thoughtfully into her face. She knelt beside him, only thankful for the caressing touch, which was still sufficiently infrequent to stir her pulses and awaken a sense of indescribable happiness.
“So he asked you to be his wife, and you refused him. What does that mean, Bride? Does it mean that you do not like him?”