“I mustn’t,” said Lady Maude, colouring. “Mamma is giving you one.”
Charley Melton gave an unintentional kick under the table, touching his opposite neighbour so hard that he turned reproachfully to the gentleman at his side.
“Oh, Lady Maude!” groaned Charley in tragic tones.
There was a hearty laugh here at some sally made by the doctor, and Maude whispered back in a husky voice—
“I dare not look at you;” and he saw that the colour was mounting to her temples.
“One word then,” he whispered, as the conversation waxed louder, but there was no reply.
“Maude,” he said, in a low deep voice, “I will not believe you to be cold—heartless.”
“Oh no,” she sighed.
“Then give me one word to tell me that I may hope.”
Still no reply, as the lady sat playing with the viands upon her plate; then her face turned slightly towards him; her long lashes lifted softly, her eyes rested for a moment upon his, and he drew a long breath of relief, turning composed and quiet the next moment as he leaned towards her, saying—