Curtis bit his lip in mortification, for her tone was cold and scornful.
Mingled with this mortification was genuine regret, for, so far as he was capable of loving any one, he loved his fair young cousin.
“You profess to love Uncle John, and yet you would disappoint his cherished hope!” he returned.
“Is it his cherished hope?”
“There is no doubt about it. He has spoken to me more than once on the subject. Feeling that his end is near, he wishes to leave you in charge of a protector.”
“I can protect myself,” said Florence, proudly.
“You think so. You do not consider the hapless lot of a penniless girl in a cold and selfish world.”
“Penniless?” repeated Florence, in an accent of surprise.
“Yes, penniless. Our uncle’s bequest to you is conditional upon your acceptance of my hand.”
“Has he said this?” asked Florence, sinking into an armchair, with a helpless look.