"Wait," she said, with trembling lips; "wait. Give me time—let me think. It was sudden; I will be better in a moment."
He sat down feeling uncommonly uncomfortable. He was a practical sort of young man, with, a man's strong dislike of scenes of all kinds, and this interview didn't begin as promisingly as he had hoped.
She remained pale and silent for upward of five very long minutes; only once her lips whispered, as if unconsciously:
"The time has come—the time has come."
It was Sir Victor himself who broke the embarrassing pause.
"Aunt Helena," he said pettishly, for he was not accustomed to have his sovereign will disputed, "I don't understand this, and you will pardon me if I say I don't like it. It must have entered your mind that sooner or later I would fall in love and marry a wife, like other men. That time has come, as you say yourself. There is nothing I can see to be shocked at."
"But not so soon," she answered brokenly. "O Victor, not so soon."
"I don't consider twenty-three years too soon. I am old-fashioned, very likely, but I do believe in the almost obsolete doctrine of early marriage. I love her with all my heart." His kindling eyes and softened voice betrayed it. "Thank Heaven she has accepted me. Without her my life would not be worth the having."
"Who is she?" she asked, without looking up. "Lady Gwendoline, of course."
"Lady Gwendoline?" He smiled and lifted his eyebrows.