"You make me feel dreadfully curious," said Fluff. "Please begin."
"The beginning is this: Ten years ago I came here. I stayed here for a month. I fell in love with Frances."
"Oh—oh! darling Frances. And you fell in love with her ten years ago?"
"I did. I went to Australia. For five years I had an awful time there; my friends at home supposed me to be dead. The fact is, I was taken captive by some of the bushmen. That has nothing to say to my story, only all the time I thought of Frances. I remained in Australia five more years. During that five years I was making my fortune. As I added pound to pound, I thought still of Frances. I am rich now, and I have come home to marry her."
"Oh," said little Fluff, with a deep-drawn sigh, "what a lovely story! But why, then, is not Frances happy?"
"Ah, that is where the mystery comes in; that is what I want you to find out. I see plainly that Frances is very unhappy. She won't say either yes or no to my suit. Her father gives me to understand that she does not love me; that she never loved me. He proposes that instead of marrying Frances I should try to make you my wife. He was urging me to do so just now when I kept you waiting. All the time he was telling me that Frances never could or would love me, and that you were the wife of all others for me."
"Why do you tell me all this?" said Fluff. Her cheeks had crimsoned, and tears trembled on her eyelashes. "Why do you spoil a beautiful story by telling me this at the end?"
"Because the squire will hint it to you, Fluff; because even Frances herself will begin to think that I am turning my affections in your direction; because if you help me as I want you to help me, we must be much together; because I must talk very freely to you; in short, because it is absolutely necessary that we should quite understand each other."
"Yes," said Fluff. "I see now what you mean; it is all right; thank you very much." She rose to her feet. "I will be a sort of sister to you," she said, laying her little hand in his; "for I love Frances better than any sister, and when you are her husband you will be my brother."
"No brother will ever be truer to you, Fluff; but, alas, and alas! is it ever likely that Frances can be my wife?"