“And you actually and decidedly refuse me?”
“Actually and decidedly, Mr. Black!”
“Is there no hope that you may change your mind Miss Wynde? Will no devotion upon my part affect your resolution?”
“None whatever. I cannot even give your proposal serious consideration, Mr. Black. I am willing to regard you as a friend. As a lover, pardon me, you would be intolerable to me.”
Neva spoke with an honest frankness that increased Craven Black’s anger. He saw that he had no chance of winning her love or her fortune, and it behooved him not to lose the lesser fortune and lesser charms of her step-mother. He tried to take his failure philosophically, but in refusing his love, Neva had made him her bitter and unscrupulous enemy.
“I accept my defeat, Miss Wynde,” he said bitterly, “and resign all my pretensions to your hand. Pardon my folly, and forget it. I hope my son will meet with better success in his suit. And may I ask as a favor that you will keep my proposal secret, not even telling it to your step-mother?”
“I am not in the habit of boasting of such things, even to Lady Wynde,” said Neva, coldly. “Your proposal, Mr. Black, is already forgotten.”
They were in Dingle wood now, and the heiress struck her horse sharply and dashed away at a canter. Craven Black kept pace with her, and at a discreet distance behind followed the liveried groom.
Neither spoke again until they were out of the wood, and had traversed the cross-road and gained the highway. When the gray towers of Hawkhurst loomed up in full view, their speed slackened, and Craven Black said hastily:
“One word, Miss Wynde. I have your solemn promise, have I not, that you will never betray the fact that I have proposed marriage to you?”