The next instant she brightened; she knew, or thought she knew, that she was not worth a million; so she smiled like a sunburst and caught him gayly by the wrists.
"A million!" she scoffed, laughingly. "Do you believe all Coronado tells you?"
"What! isn't it true?" exclaimed Thurstane, reddening with joy. "Then you are not heir to your grandfather's fortune? It was one of his lies? Oh, my little girl, I am forever happy."
She had not meant all this; but how could she undeceive him? The tempting thought came into her mind that she would marry him while he was in this ignorance, and so relieve him of his noble scruples about taking an heiress. It was one of those white lies which, it seems to us, must fade out of themselves from the record book, without even needing to be blotted by the tear of an angel.
"Are you glad?" she smiled, though anxious at heart, for deception alarmed her. "Really glad to find me poor?"
His only response was to cover her hands, and hair, and forehead with kisses.
At last came the question, When? Clara hesitated; her face and neck bloomed with blushes as dewy as flowers; she looked at him once piteously, and then her gaze fell in beautiful shame.
"When would you like?" she at last found breath to whisper.
"Now—here," was the answer, holding both her hands and begging with his blue-black eyes, as soft then as a woman's.
"Yes, at once," he continued to implore. "It is best everyway. It will save you from persecutions. My love, is it not best?"