"I would do anything on earth for you, Kitty," Cecil said most gently and fervently; "but don't ask me to give advice—to Uncle George of all men—on a question of this kind—unless you will allow me to be perfectly frank."
"It's a family question," said Kitty, ignoring his proviso.
"I think it would get to be a personal question very soon between Uncle George and me. No; I meddled in one family question not very long ago."
"It's very strange," said Kitty restlessly, "if you can't help me out of this in some way. I cannot be so disrespectful to him, the dear old gentleman! He ought not to be put in such a position, or I either. How would you like it if it were your father?"
Cecil reddened handsomely at this home thrust. "I'd have a deuce of a time to stop him if he took the notion, you know; it's not exactly a son's or a nephew's business. There is only one way in which I can help you, Kitty. You must know that."
He had struck a different key, and his face was all one blush to correspond with the new note in his voice. I think I never saw a manlier, more generous warmth of ardor and humility, or listened to words so simply uttered in such telling tones.
"What way is that?" asked Kitty coldly.
"Forgive me! I could tell him that you are engaged to me."
"That would be a nice way—to tell him a falsehood! I should hope I had been humiliated enough"—
She snatched her handkerchief from her belt and pressed it to her burning face. I rose again to go. "Sit still, pray!" she murmured.