She looked up at him with a smile, as she finished; met his eyes, read the expression in them, stopped abruptly, and said, in a voice of consternation:
‘Oh dear, oh dear!’
Her face was covered with a flood of colour. For a moment she put her hand before it, as if to cover it, then dropped it again.
‘What must you think of me?’ she exclaimed, in a voice full of tears. ‘Pray forgive me, if you can!’
‘Pray do not distress yourself,’ he rejoined, a curious flavour, half bitterness, half amusement, in his voice—‘I led up to it; I wanted to hear you confess it. I felt sure you were too natural not to feel so. You are quite right; you and yours have not stolen the place. You came by it honestly, and have a right to rejoice in it if you like.’
He made a step onwards, inwardly wondering a little why he had led up to this topic. Nita’s face was downcast, as she said, in a deep tone of annoyance and vexation:
‘It does not matter. I am a little fool, I believe. After all my resolutions that I would not drop a syllable that could wound you while you were here—idiot that I am!’
‘Did you make such resolutions?’ asked Wellfield, suddenly stopping again, and bending his eyes beneath their frowning brows upon her.
‘Yes. Oh, don’t look so severe, Mr. Wellfield, or I shall have to go in. Indeed it was an oversight, my saying such a thing.’
‘I wish you would not take it so to heart,’ he said, with a short laugh. ‘It is well that I should learn to grow accustomed to my position. You have given me the first lesson, that is all. Shall we go on?’