His look, his tone, commanded a reply.
"To ask me whether I would not promise to marry him some day," I replied in a low tone.
There was a pause, during which I could hear the beating of my own heart.
"Well," at length said Cornelius, "did you give him that promise?"
"Guess!" I answered, and that he might not read the truth in my face, I averted it from his gaze.
"Guess!" he echoed, with a groan, "imprudent girl, I guess but too easily. Oh, Daisy! how could you pledge yourself, how could you promise that which may be the misery of your whole life."
"Cornelius, I did not promise."
"But you love him!" he exclaimed with a sort of despair, "and love is surer than vows."
In the reply which I then should have made, there was no cause for shame, yet my eyes sought the ground, my face burned, and I hesitated and paused. When I at length looked up, dreading to meet the glance of Cornelius, I perceived that his eyes were riveted on William Murray, who had come up the steep path unheard, and now stood leaning on the low wooden gate, looking at us sadly and gravely. I was the first to break the awkward pause that followed.
"I thought you were gone. William," I said, rising, and taking a step towards him.