“Ha! Ha!” laughed Belle with a confident air. “I think I may count upon that. He has as good as given it.”
“Already! But has he really declared himself—in words I mean?”
“Not exactly in words. But, dear ma, since I suppose you will insist upon knowing my secrets before giving your consent, I may as well tell you all about it. He intends to declare himself soon; this very day if I am not astray in my chronology.”
“What reason have you for thinking so?”
“Only his having hinted that he had something important to say to me—time fixed for a call he is to make this afternoon. What else could it be?”
Mrs Mainwaring made no reply, but sat thoughtful, as if not altogether pleased with the communication her daughter had made.
“I hope, dear mamma, you are contented?”
“With what, my child?”
“With—with—well, to have Henry Harding for your son-in-law. Does it satisfy you?”
“My dearest child,” answered the Indian officer’s widow, with that cautious air peculiar to her country—she was Scotch. “It is a serious question this; very serious, and requires careful consideration. You know how very straitened are our circumstances—how your poor dear father left little to support us—having but little to leave?”