"That being so, was it not very thoughtless of you to drive me this way?" she inquired, with some asperity.
"Guilty," laughed Maxwell. "May I plead in extenuation that it is the longest?"
He sprang down and looped the reins round a gatepost when they reached the winding drive which led up to The Larches.
"Do you mind alighting here, Miss Chatterton?" he asked.
"No," said Lilian. "But may I inquire the reason?"
"A desire not to risk your safety a second time. The drive is very dark, the horse addicted to bolting on opportunity; and it would be hard to do justice to what I must tell you if I were forced to watch him. The task is sufficiently beyond me already; I would give a good deal for the power of eloquence."
Lilian was startled, for the speaker had certainly not worn his heart on his sleeve.
"Could you not wait until to-morrow?" she asked with some trepidation.
"I am afraid not," said Maxwell, a trifle grimly. "I fear this must be a surprise to you, but circumstances prevent my waiting, and it is even better to hear one's sentence than to remain in suspense. Won't you listen?"
Lilian, seeing there was no escape, bent her head; and, if Maxwell had not the gift of eloquence, he could compress a good deal into a few brief sentences. There was no superfluous protestation. The man spoke abruptly, but Lilian could not doubt the earnestness in his voice, or, as he stood hat in hand under the lamplight, mistake the look in his eyes. She saw that what he offered was the enduring love of one who could be trusted to the utmost, and the few pointed words revealed depths of tenderness she had hardly suspected in him.