June made no reply, but as she requested Mr. Linton to turn in another direction she heard Max saying in a tender way:
“Poor darling! It is so hard to live with an uncongenial nature, isn’t it? I am so sorry for you.”
June did not hear Irene’s reply, but she wondered how she could bear such flattery, or how she could hear 117 her noble husband spoken of in such a slanderous way, and she thought she must speak to some one on the subject, but to whom she did not know.
“Miss Wilmer,” Mr. Linton said again, “if you knew how much I loved you you would at least condescend to reply when I tell you so.”
“Please pardon my carelessness, Mr. Linton.”
“Ah, yes, but truly, my dear, I have waited for some time to speak to you, and this seems just the time for such bliss as will be mine when you tell me that you will be my wife. You are, of all the young ladies I have met, just the one to go with me to England. I shall feel proud to tell my people that I have given you the preference.”
“Indeed, Mr. Linton,” she said, “I have never thought of marriage. I am too young to think of that.”
“Beg pardon, my dear, but my wife must be young.”
“I have a great deal to learn before I shall have experience enough to marry any man, and I shall probably not marry until you are settled in life.”
“How matter of fact you talk, Miss June. You cannot love as I do, or you would discard all such unromantic thoughts. You would not think of putting time or distance between us.”