She did not look at Gunther; her attention was all given to the beautiful carriages driving by. If she had looked at him she would have seen the intensity of his passion in the workings of his features. For a moment the struggle with himself was terrible; but controlling his voice all he could, he said:
“You can have this life if you wish, and continue in the winters in a beautiful residence in New York or in Paris, should you desire it. You know it.”
“No, I do not. I have no fairy god-mother to give me palaces. Come, let us go. Where is everybody?” said she, hurrying out of the arbor, looking about the grounds for Elvira and Miss Gunther, who had but a moment before been near her. “Ah! there they are; let us go to them.”
“Do I frighten you? or am I tiresome?” said he, pale to the lips, following her.
“Neither; but young ladies who—who are—I mean any young lady, should not have such tete-á-tetes with fascinating young gentlemen in rosy bowers.”
“Young ladies who are—what?”
“Who are judicious.”
“Were you not going to say ‘who are engaged?’”
“If I had, I might not have said the truth, strictly.”
“Oh, in Heaven's name, tell me the truth! Are you engaged?”