"Refused!" exclaimed Dutton, in a surprise that overcame the calculated amenity of manner he had assumed the instant Wycherly appeared—"Refused Sir Wycherly Wychecombe! but it was before your rights had been as well established as they are now. Mildred, answer to this—how could you—nay, how dare you refuse such an offer as this?"
Human nature could not well endure more. Mildred suffered her hands to fall helplessly into her lap, and exposed a face that was lovely as that of an angel's, though pale nearly to the hue of death. Feeling extorted the answer she made, though the words had hardly escaped her, ere she repented having uttered them, and had again buried her face in her hands—
"Father"—she said—"could I—dare I to encourage Sir Wycherly Wychecombe to unite himself to a family like ours!"
Conscience smote Dutton with a force that nearly sobered him, and what explanation might have followed it is hard to say; Wycherly, in an under-tone, however, requested to be left alone with the daughter. Dutton had sense enough to understand he was de trop, and shame enough to wish to escape. In half a minute, he had hobbled up to the summit of the cliff and disappeared.
"Mildred!—Dearest Mildred"—said Wycherly, tenderly, gently endeavouring to draw her attention to himself, "we are alone now; surely—surely—you will not refuse to look at me!"
"Is he gone?" asked Mildred, dropping her hands, and looking wildly around. "Thank God! It is over, for this time, at least! Now, let us go to the house; Admiral Bluewater may miss me."
"No, Mildred, not yet. You surely can spare me—me, who have suffered so much of late on your account—nay, by your means—you can, in mercy, spare me a few short minutes. Was this the reason—the only reason, dearest girl, why you so pertinaciously refused my hand?"
"Was it not sufficient, Wycherly?" answered Mildred, afraid the chartered air might hear her secret. "Remember who you are, and what I am! Could I suffer you to become the husband of one to whom such cruel, cruel propositions had been made by her own father!"
"I shall not affect to conceal my horror of such principles, Mildred, but your virtues shine all the brighter by having flourished in their company. Answer me but one question frankly, and every other difficulty can be gotten over. Do you love me well enough to be my wife, were you an orphan?"
Mildred's countenance was full of anguish, but this question changed its expression entirely. The moment was extraordinary as were the feelings it engendered, and, almost unconsciously to herself, she raised the hand that held her own to her lips, in a sort of reverence. In the next instant she was encircled in the young man's arms, and pressed with fervour to his heart.