"Excuse me, Miss Zillah, for detaining you a moment, but I have something very particular to tell you," he said, hardly waiting for the end of her sentence. "You are a very lovely and charming young lady."
"Oh, that's no news! I've heard it dozens of times," she interrupted, laughing and taking a backward step as if on the point of running away.
"No doubt; but never, I am sure, from so devoted an admirer as your humble servant. Miss Zillah, I lay my heart, hand, and fortune at your feet."
"Oh don't Mr. Ransquattle," she interrupted again, half-recoiling as she spoke; "it's a dangerous place to lay articles so valuable, lest perchance they should be accidentally trodden on."
"Can you have misunderstood me?" he asked, as it would seem in some surprise at her obtuseness. "I meant to ask you to marry me. Will you? But don't answer now. Take time to consider, and I will call to-morrow to learn my fate from the sweetest lips in the world."
He was bowing an adieu; but now she detained him. Drawing herself up with dignity, and speaking in a calm, cold tone of firm determination, "No, do not call, Mr. Ransquattle," she said: "I need no time to consider the question you have asked, and will give you your answer now. I can never bestow my heart upon you, and therefore never my hand. Good-night, sir;" and turning, she hastened with a quick, light step toward the house.
In the hall she met Wallace, who had just left her father in the sitting-room busy over some law papers.
"Zillah!" he exclaimed, "what is it? what has happened?"
"Why do you ask? why do you think anything has happened?" she returned, half averting her face.
"Because you look so flushed and indignant. If anybody has been insulting you—"