"I have guessed nothing, except that I am thirsty and want my tea," I replied. "I cannot talk to you any longer."
"Oh yes, you can," he replied, "and you don't stir from here until I have had my say. You thought to escape me that time in the drawing-room a few weeks back, but you won't now. Don't be angry; don't look so frightened. I mean well, I mean—I cannot tell you what I quite mean when I look at you, but there, you like the house?"
"Yes," I said, "very well."
"Very well indeed; let me tell you, Miss Wickham, there isn't a more comfortable house nor a better furnished house, nor a better paid-for house in the length and breadth of the county. And you like these gardens, eh?"
"Certainly," I said.
"I thought so. Well, now, the fruit garden, and the kitchen garden, and the pleasure garden, and the house, and the furniture, and the master of the house are all at your disposal. There! I have spoken. You are the one I am wishing to wed; you are the one I intend to wed. I am wanting you, and I mean to have you for better, for worse. I have not the slightest doubt that you have faults, but I am willing to run the risk of finding them out; and I have no doubt that I have faults too, but I do not think that they are too prominent, and, at any rate, I am a real, downright son of Britain, an honest, good-hearted, well-meaning man. I believe in the roast beef of Old England and the beer of Old England, and the ways of Old England, and I want an English girl like yourself to be my wife, and I will treat you well, my dear, and love you well—yes, I will love you right well."
Here his voice broke, and a pathetic look came into his eyes, and I turned away more embarrassed, and more distressed than ever I was in my life.
"You will have all that heart can desire, little girl, and your poor, delicate mother, shall come and live with you in this house; and she and my mother can have a sitting-room between them. We shall be a happy quartette, and you shall come to me as soon as ever you like, the sooner the better. Now you need not give me your answer yet. We know, of course, what it will be; it is a great chance for you, and I am not denying it, but come and enjoy your tea."
"But I must and will give you my answer now," I replied. "How can you for a single moment imagine that I can seriously consider your offer? It is kind of you; yes, it is kind of any man to give his whole heart to a girl; and, I believe, you are sincere, but I can only give you one answer, Mr. Fanning."
"And that?" he said.