"Of what are you thinking?"
"Of you," he replied, and he saw that she grew pale at the idea of what might follow, and the conviction that she had drawn it on herself; "I was thinking that you could be a friend good and true, if you chose; and heaven knows," he added with a sigh, and timidly fencing as he thought, "I want one."
"Have you not Rookleigh, your brother of whom I have heard, but, oddly, never seen?"
"To me he is a brother, and no brother!"
"I will be your friend," said she, coyly.
"Ever!"
"Ever and always. Think of all I owe you—that I am here to-day, alive and in the world, listening to you, and spared to Papa."
Bright ardour filled his eyes, and stooping he pressed her hand to his lips; but she snatched it away.
"I do not mean friendship of that kind!" said she, blushing with anger at herself for taking, as she thought, the initiative; then he too reddened, and a pause ensued.
Clara had not the least idea of flirting; and yet the most consummate coquette could not have been more fascinating in her charming frankness of manner.