"But who is there here to notice?" asked Matilda.
"Nobody," he said; "oh, nobody! but we mustn't get into the way of it;" and he cast another furtive rearward look. In the full flow of his raptures the miserable hairdresser had seen a sight which had frozen his very marrow—a tall form, in flowing drapery, gliding up behind with a tigress-like stealth. The statue had broken out, in spite of all his precautions! Venus, jealous and exacting, was near enough to overhear every word, and he could scarcely hope she had escaped seeing the arm he had thrown round Matilda's waist.
"You were going to tell me how you worshipped me," said Matilda.
"I didn't say worship," he protested; "it—it's only images and such that expect that. But I can tell you there's very few brothers feel to you as I feel."
"Brothers, Leander!" exclaimed Matilda, and walked farther apart from him.
"Yes," he said. "After all, what tie's closer than a brother? A uncle's all very well, and similarly a cousin; but they can't feel like a brother does, for brothers they are not."
"I should have thought there were ties still closer," said Matilda; "you seemed to think so too, once."
"Oh, ah! that!" he said. (Every frigid word gave him a pang to utter; but it was all for Matilda's sake.) "There's time enough to think of that, my girl; we mustn't be in a hurry."
"I'm not in a hurry," said Matilda.
"That's the proper way to look at it," said he; "and meanwhile I haven't got a sister I'm fonder of than I am of you."