Hilda admitted that she had seen Mr. Grahame two or three times within the last week, and that she had allowed him to walk home with her after the early service.
"Do you think it wise or womanly to advertise your friendship with a man who is suspected of a most abominable crime?" asked her brother severely.
"I think it wise and womanly to be true to my friends in misfortune—in unmerited misfortune," she answered firmly.
"You are very strong in your faith. And pray what do you expect will be the end of all this?"
"I expect—I hope—that some day I shall be Bothwell's wife. I shall not be impatient of your control, Edward. I am only nineteen. I hope during the next two years you will find good reason to change your opinion about Bothwell, and to give your consent to our marriage—"
"And if I do not?"
"If you do not, I must take advantage of my liberty, when I come of age, and marry him without your consent."
"You have changed your tune, Hilda. A week ago you told me that you and Bothwell would never be married. Now, you boldly announce your betrothal to him."
"We are not betrothed—yet."
"O, there is a preliminary stage, is there? A kind of purgatory which precedes the heaven of betrothal. Hilda, you are doing a most ill-advised and unwomanly thing in giving encouragement to this man, in spite of your brother's warning."