‘I dare say we are,’ answered the girl slowly. ‘I suppose it is time we came to some understanding, Lewis.’
It was not a very promising opening, and Lewis was aware of it.
‘Well, Maud,’ he said with a sigh, ‘you know I have loved you all these years, and wanted to make you my wife. The question is, will you have me?’
Had Maud’s feelings been in any way likely to warm towards him, such a beginning would have been fatal; but as it was, it did not affect the point at issue, because her mind was already made up.
‘No, Lewis; I’m afraid I can’t, after all,’ she said slowly. ‘I do like you, and we’ve been very good friends always, and I’ve tried to make up my mind to it. I’ve looked at the matter every way, and considered everything, and I’m sure it would be best for us not to marry.’
Lewis sat looking gloomily at his boots.
‘Aren’t you fond of me, Maud, after the way we have held together all these years?’
‘Yes, Lewis, I am fond of you, and you are fond of me; but I don’t love you, and what’s more, you don’t love me—not in the way you think you do. I am sure we should not be really happy together, so you had better take the money, and leave me alone.’
‘I don’t want the money—I want you. It’s a beastly shame the money ever was left like that.’
‘Yes, so it is,’ assented Maud readily; ‘but I can almost be glad that you will have it, Lewis, for you will find it very convenient. And—and I hope you won’t go right away, or do anything rash; because I’m very fond of you, Lewis, though I can’t marry you.’