He raised his brows, looking down at her quizzically. “Are you also to pick a quarrel with me, Judith?”
“No, indeed,” she said earnestly. “Perry is only a boy; he has these nonsensical notions. You are wiser. Oh, do not tell me! Indeed, you need not! You saved him, and I am—you do not know how grateful!”
He took her hand in both of his. “To earn your good opinion there is nothing I would not do!” he said.
Her eyes fell before the look in his. “You have earned it. From the bottom of my heart I thank you.”
“I want more than gratitude,” he said, holding her fast. “Tell me, may I hope? I dare not press you; you have seemed to show me that you do not wish me to speak, and yet I must! Only assure me that I may hope—I ask no more!”
She was most strangely moved, and knew not how to answer him. Her hand trembled; he bent and kissed it. She murmured: “I do not know. I—I have not thought of marriage. I wish you would not ask me yet. What can I answer?”
“At least tell me that there is no one else?”
“There is no one, cousin,” she said.
He continued to hold her hand a minute, and when she made a movement to disengage herself pressed it slightly, and released it. “I am content. We will go and look for Mrs. Scattergood.”
In another part of the town Mr. Farnaby was still talking the affair over with his second, who was by this time heartily sick of the subject. His principal seemed to him so much put out over it that he presently said: “What’s your game, Ned? There’s more to it than you’ve told me, eh? Who wants that young sprig put away? You’re being paid, and paid handsomely for the task, ain’t you?”