"What am I to say to that?" he said, throwing one over to Rachel.
The colour came into her cheeks as she saw that it was from Rendel.
"I have one from him too," she said.
"Oh! well, I don't ask to see that," Sir William said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "I know better."
"I would rather you saw it, really, father," and she handed him Rendel's letter to herself—a straightforward, dignified, considerate letter, in which he assured her that he did not mean to intrude himself upon her until she allowed him to come, and that all he asked was that she should understand that he was waiting, and would be content to wait, as long as there was a chance of hope.
"Well, when am I to tell him to come?" Sir William said.
"Father, what he wants cannot be," Rachel said.
"Cannot be?" said Sir William. "Why not?"
"Oh!" Rachel said, trying to command her voice, "I could not at this moment think of anything of that kind."
"At this moment, perhaps," Sir William said. "But you see he is not in a hurry. He says so, at any rate, though I am not sure that it is very convincing."