Lavretsky make no reply at first, and Liza suddenly grew still redder than before.
"Yes, yes! you have guessed it!" unexpectedly cried Lavretsky. "In the course of that fortnight I have learnt what a woman's heart is like when it is pure and clear; and my past life seems even farther off from me than it used to be."
Liza became a little uncomfortable, and slowly turned to where
Lenochka and Shurochka were in the flower-garden.
"But I am glad I showed you that newspaper," said Lavretsky, as he followed her. "I have grown accustomed to conceal nothing from you, and I hope you will confide in me equally in return."
"Do you really?" said Liza, stopping still. "In that case, I ought.
But, no! it is impossible."
"What is it? Tell me—tell me!"
"I really think I ought not.—However," added Liza, turning to Lavretsky with a smile, "what is the good of a half-confidence? Do you know, I received a letter to-day?"
"From Panshine?"
"Yes, from him. How did you guess that?"
"And he asks for your hand?"