'You wish particularly to speak with me, I understand?' said Olive, nervously thinking it must refer to the tête-à-tête he had overseen on the terrace.
'Yes—particularly, dear Olive.'
When he saw her tender beauty, her grace, and her witchery, and felt all the subtle charm of her presence, his heart was wrung by the thought that, by the very act he had the power to do, and the suggestions he was about to make to her, he might place her at the entire disposal of Hawke Holcroft, of whose real character he now knew more than formerly.
How variable had been the emotions she had, ever since his return from India, exhibited towards him! By turns she had been changeable and indifferent apparently; playful, petulant, and imperious; yet always bewitching and sweet.
Seeing the cloudy and sad expression of his eye, Olive said,
'You have not come to scold me for anything, Allan. We are at least friends.'
'Would we were more,' said Allan, remembering what his father had urged but a few minutes before.
'Surely to be cousins is a near enough relationship.'
'Olive,' said he, reproachfully, 'unless you have formed a distinct attachment for some one else, I must say I do not understand you.'
'I don't want you to understand me,' she replied, with half-averted face.