She grew suddenly grave, and he wished he had not said it.
“There’s no concealment about mine, Bram,” she said quietly.
“You’re going to marry Mr. Christian?”
“I suppose so.”
Why did she speak so quietly, so wistfully? The question troubled Bram, who did not dare to say any more upon a subject which she seemed anxious to avoid as much as she could. And the talk languished until Claire heard her father’s footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Now go,” said she imperiously. “I don’t want you to meet papa. And you mustn’t come again. And you mustn’t tell them up at Holme Park that you were here this evening.”
Bram frowned.
“Miss Claire,” said he, “I am a deal prouder of coming here than I am of going up to t’ Park. And if I’m to choose between here and t’ Park, I choose to come here. But I shall be let to do as I please, I can promise you. But, of course, if you don’t want me here, I won’t come.”
“Good-night,” said she for answer.
And she hurried him out of the house, and shut the door upon him in time to prevent her father, who was in the passage outside, from meeting him.