"I am so sorry. But you will be able to see Lady Ogram?"
"I fear not. I wish to leave almost at once."
They were drawing near to the garden. Dymchurch paused, glanced at his companion with sad eyes, and, his look cast down, again spoke.
"Miss Tomalin, I came here wishing to ask you to be my wife. Only a foolish shyness prevented me from doing so yesterday. This morning, I know that it would be too late. Pray forgive me for speaking of the matter at all. I feel obliged to explain myself. Perhaps I had better make the explanation complete by saying that I saw you go through the garden, and followed in the same direction, hoping for an opportunity of speaking with you alone."
May felt that a man in this position could not well have conducted himself more kindly and delicately. No hint in look or voice that he thought her behaviour extraordinary; he had been defeated by a rival, that was all; his tone begged excuse for unwilling intrusion upon her privacy. But for the hopelessly compromising moment at which he had arrived, probably he would have given her all benefit of the doubt, and in one way or another, would still have prosecuted his wooing. Very nervous and confused, she made what seemed to her an appropriate answer.
"Thank you very much, Lord Dymchurch. I had so hoped we could be friends—simply friends. Do let me think of you still in that way."
"Will you give me a proof of friendship," said the other, smiling kindly, "by permitting me to tell Lady Ogram, in a note I shall leave for her, that you have declined my offer of marriage?"
This, thought May, was indeed a smoothing of her difficulties. She glanced at the speaker with gratitude.
"You will really do that? How generous of you, Lord Dymchurch!"
"Allow me to leave you now, Miss Tomalin. I must prepare for my journey."