“No, indeed! I hope I have a little more propriety than that! Perhaps I could take a situation as a governess, or some such thing,” she said doubtfully.
“No one in possession of her senses would engage you,” he assured her. “Besides, I have a great deal of pride, and it would not suit me to marry a governess!” A stifled gurgle sounded. “You may laugh!” he said severely. “But I have some pretty stiff notions of what is due to my consequence, let me tell you!”
“I wonder what can have put it into my head that you had none?”
“There is no telling that. Well, my darling? Shall we go?”
She lifted her head, and looked up at him. “Yes, John. But afterwards?”
“Are you afraid I mean to carry you off to the tollhouse? You will remain here, of course, while you are needed.”
“I must, you know,” she said, a little wistfully.
“Yes, I know. If I were living in a palace, I would not ask you to leave your grandfather now. But henceforth I shall have the right to protect you. Come, let us go and tell Sir Peter that we are very willing to oblige him!”
The Squire was lying with closed eyes, watched intently by Winkfield, and in pity and doubt by the Vicar; but he roused at the sound of the opening door, and turned his head slightly on the pillow. The Vicar, rising to his feet, and looking anxiously at Nell, was astonished to see that the rigid and decidedly wrathful young Amazon had vanished. She was leaning on the Captain’s arm, one hand lost in his larger one, her face softly glowing, and the tenderest of smiles hovering round her mouth as she glanced up at him.
“Well?” said Sir Peter.