Evarne did not answer. The longer she reflected the more overwhelming appeared this unforeseen complication. Of course, as soon as her engagement became common knowledge, all sorts of people would want to learn all about her; the events of her whole past life would probably be delved into—and then—what? She wished Geoffrey would leave her alone for a time. She wanted to think.
But the more anxious and depressed she appeared, the more concerned and self-reproachful he grew.
"I'm not vexed with you personally, dear," she was at length compelled to explain. "You mustn't think that for a moment. Only—only——"
"Only what?"
"I was thinking of a part of Mrs. Browning's translation of 'Prometheus Bound.' Do you remember it?
"Oh, wise was he, oh, wise was he,
Who first within his spirit knew,
And with his tongue proclaimed it true,
That love comes best that comes unto
The equal of degree!
And that the poor and that the low
Should seek no love from those above...."
She broke off suddenly.
"Oh, Geoffrey, that is true! I know it is, and it does seem so suited to us now."
"I noticed you discreetly ceased before reaching the last lines, which would make the application I suppose you intend far from complimentary to me, Mistress Evarne. My soul is neither 'proud' nor 'fluttered by rows of ancestral lights,' or anything of that sort. Nothing 'flutters' it except your sweet self, so that verse does not suit at all. How dare you shake your head? Don't you believe me?"
"Yes, yes! I do, of course. But there is your cousin to consider. I shall never gain his goodwill. He will never give his consent."