At last he was silent, and waiting her reply.
It was a hard task, but she was now well strung up, and turning to him quietly, she said,—
“Don’t you think, Mr Tregenna, that it is necessary in such a case for there to exist a mutual feeling of attachment?”
There was something so terribly cold and matter-of-fact in this—something, so to speak, so ungirlish—that it came upon Tregenna like a thunder-clap; but he was equal to the emergency.
“No,” he said eagerly; “certainly not, if the lady has no prior attachment, which you, dear Rhoda, I am sure, have not.”
“No, Mr Tregenna, I certainly have not,” she replied, quietly.
“It is only necessary,” he exclaimed, “that the man should love. The love of the woman will grow.”
“I do not agree with you, Mr Tregenna,” she replied, quietly.
“But, my dearest Rhoda—”
“Mr Tregenna,” she said firmly, “let us understand one another at once. From a feeling of respect for my father’s friend I have heard you to the end, and my respect for you has grown as I have noticed the gentlemanly manner in which you have made known to me your unfortunate attachment.”