They had strolled slowly hither and thither in the deserted streets for some time. The bells had ceased ringing, and the church-goers had all disappeared. The grey twilight was stealing into the streets and squares, and the lights began to shine out from the lower windows.
“How quiet you are, Nelly,” Richard said at last; “why were you so anxious that we should come put together alone, my dear? I fancied you had something particular to say to me.”
“I have something particular to say.”
“What about?” asked Mr. Thornton.
He looked thoughtfully at his companion. He could only see her profile—that clearly-defined, almost classical outline—for she had not turned towards him when she spoke. Her grey eyes looked straight before her into empty space, and her lips were tightly compressed.
“You love me, don’t you, Richard?” she asked presently, with a suddenness that startled the scene-painter.
Poor Dick blushed crimson at that alarming inquiry. How could she be so cruel as to ask him such a question? For the last fortnight he had been fighting with himself—sturdily and honestly—in the heroic desire to put away this one fatal thought from his mind; and now the girl for whose sake he had been doing battle with his own selfishness, struck the tenderest of all chords with her ignorant hand, and wounded her victim to the very quick.
But Miss Vane had no consciousness of the mischief she had done. Coquetry was an unknown science to this girl of seventeen. In all matters connected with that womanly accomplishment she was as much a child, now that her seventeenth birthday was past, as she had been in the old days at Chelsea when she had upset Richard’s colour-boxes and made grotesque copies of his paintings.
“I know you love me, Dick,” she continued, “quite as much as if I were your real sister, instead of a poor desolate girl who flung herself upon you and yours in the day of her affliction. I know you love me, Dick, and would do almost anything for my sake, and I wanted to speak to you to-night alone, because I am going to say something that would distress the dear Signora, if she were to hear it.”
“What is it, my dear?”