“You are not glad to see me, I can see that,” he went on, hurriedly, as he turned and kept pace with her. “Of course, I had no right to expect that you would be, but still I had hoped.”
She made no answer.
“You got my letters?”
“Yes,” answered Nell, in a tone in which he was surprised to detect a tremor.
“You know that I asked you to let me come down?”
“I—I did not write to say you might, though.”
But her tone was not angry, he thought.
“Well, I did wait as long as I could, but, Nell, I was too miserable to wait any longer. And now that I see you, and see that you look changed, and think that it is my fault, I feel as if I could hang myself.”
He hoped she would say something, but she did not. After a few moments’ silence, he saw that a tear was falling down her cheek.
“Oh, my darling!” broke out Clifford, unable to restrain himself any longer, “won’t you let me marry you and take you away? You have known me long enough now, haven’t you?”