"I have come for it," was the reply.
He knew by Mattie's manner what that answer would be, and he steeled himself to meet a cold rejection of his offer. All was part and parcel of the new incomprehensibility upon which he had intruded.
"More than once, Sidney, I have thought of writing my answer to you, but have found the difficulty of putting all I wish to say into words that would not look cold and indifferent to the great honour you would have done me."
"This is satire," he said, hastily.
"Forgive me, it is not intended for that. I would not wound you by a word, if I could help it. And it was an honour to me."
"I deny it," he answered, warmly.
"Ever before you and me that past which there is no shutting from us—which would have been talked about, and have often brought the blush of shame to your cheeks for my sake. Ever before you what I have been—what I am fit for!"
"Fit for a higher station than it is in my power to raise you—no position is too elevated for a good and pious woman. All this is argument which I thought that I had combated long since—pardon me for adding, all this foolish reasoning, utterly unworthy of you."
"Still——"
"It is no reason for declining my hand, Mattie," he interrupted, with some sternness, "it is simply an excuse."