CHAPTER XXVII.
They were not a happy pair, Lawrence Croft and Annie Peyton, as they stood together in the arbor, after old Mrs Keswick had left them. They were both a good deal shaken by the storm they had passed through.
"Lawrence," said Annie, looking up to him with her large eyes full of earnestness, "there surely is no truth in what she said about your being legally bound to Miss March?"
"None in the least," said Lawrence. "No man, under the circumstances, would consider himself engaged to a woman. At any rate, there is one thing which I wish you to understand, and that is that I am not engaged to Miss March, and that I am engaged to you. No matter what is said or done, you and I belong to each other."
Annie made no answer, but she pressed his hand tightly as she looked up into his face. He kissed her as she stood, notwithstanding his belief that old Mrs Keswick was fully capable of bounding down on him, umbrella in hand, from an upper window.
"What do you think she is going to do?" Annie asked presently.
"My dear Annie," said he, "I do not believe that there is a person on earth who could divine what your Aunt Keswick is going to do. As to that, we must simply wait and see. But, for my part, I know what I must do. I must write a letter to Miss March, and inform her, plainly and definitely, that I have ceased to be a suitor for her hand. I think also that it will be well to let her know that we are engaged?"
"Yes," said Annie, "for she will be sure to hear it now. But she will think it is a very prompt proceeding."
"That's exactly what it was," said Lawrence, smiling, "prompt and determined. There was no doubt or indecision about any part of our affair, was there, little one?"
"Not a bit of it," said Annie, proudly.