"Nay, but far more surely," said he, "in consideration of the fact that, not a half-hour since, you deigned to promise me your hand in marriage—"
"O la now!" cried Lady Allonby; and, recovering herself, smiled courteously. "'Tis the first I had heard of it," said she.
They stared at each other in wonderment. Then Lady Allonby burst into laughter.
"D'ye mean—?" said she.
"Indeed," said Mr. Erwyn, "so unintentional was I of aspiring to Miss Allonby's affections that all my soul was set upon possessing the heart and person of a lady, in my humble opinion, far more desirable."
"I had not dreamed—" she commenced.
"Behold," said Mr. Erwyn, bitterly, "how rightly is my presumption punished. For I, with a fop's audacity, had thought my love for you of sufficient moment to have been long since observed; and, strong in my conceit, had scorned a pleasing declaration made up of faint phrases and whining ballad-endings. I spoke as my heart prompted me; but the heart has proven a poor counsellor, dear lady, and now am I rewarded. For you had not even known of my passion, and that which my presumption had taken for a reciprocal tenderness proves in the ultimate but a kindly aspiration to further my union with another."
"D'ye love me, toad?" said Lady Allonby, and very softly.
"Indeed," said Mr. Erwyn, "I have loved you all my life, first with a boyish inclination that I scarce knew was love, and, after your marriage with an honorable man had severed us, as I thought, irrevocably, with such lore as an ingenuous person may bear a woman whom both circumstances and the respect in which he holds her have placed beyond his reach,—a love that might not be spoken, but of which I had considered you could never be ignorant."
"Mr. Erwyn," said she, "at least I have not been ignorant—"