How the fact that there was something not in the least paternal in the pressure of those arms was conveyed to Rona is not to be explained. But the fact remains that, in a very short time, she did realize it; and, sitting upright, drew herself away, and covered her quivering mouth with her drenched handkerchief.
"Oh, what an object I must be!" she gasped, shakily, with a sudden foolish laugh, forced and unreal.
He could not at once reply. He was moved and shaken to a surprising degree by his plunge into so new an experience. But he made a manful effort to answer her rationally. He thought he knew the cause of her tears, and was not merely astonished, but frightened at their vehemence. "Oh, do forgive me!" he stammered. "I—it was most unintentional. You are crying because I spoke to you so harshly at the landing-stage, are you not?"
This remarkable idea had the immediate effect of turning her thoughts and drying her tears. "Oh!" cried she, "how could you think me so silly? No, indeed, it is not that. It is a trouble, a real one, that has come upon me all in a minute. I ought to have expected it—I have always known that it must come. But, somehow, one forgets—one hopes. And now it has happened, and I must go away—away from everything that I—love."
The last word was almost inaudible, by reason of the tears which threatened to flow again. Denzil's spirits rose with a leap. That was it—Jealousy! Clever Aunt Bee, who had given him a hint! She was jealous of Myrtle Bentley, and this most natural feminine feeling had shown her the true state of her own heart. He snatched her hands.
"Darling, I know, I know! But you are quite mistaken! How could you have got such a preposterous notion into your head? And yet it was natural, too; for before I fell in love with you I had some thoughts of Miss—ah—Bentley. But it was nothing. And you must not go, my Rona, but stay here always, in your true home, with me. You will, won't you? Say that you will, Rona?" His pulses bounded as he saw how completely he had surprised her. "Have you not guessed?" he tenderly asked, stooping to look into her troubled, drooping face.
"Have you not known always that I was most awfully fond of you? I think I fell in love at first sight. But, of course, I would not speak until you were a woman grown, and able to decide for yourself."
The words affected Rona. She contrasted his behavior with that of his brother, as was inevitable. The rich man, who had so much to offer, had held back, in order that her choice might be free and deliberate. Her other suitor, the almost beggar, caught her, worked upon her gratitude, bound her by a promise at an age when she was not able to give a valid one. The thought of the deception which she had practiced upon this good, generous friend for two years weighed down her spirit. How little he had known her—the chivalrous, unworldly man, who had taken her on trust, knowing nothing of her antecedents! The real King Cophetua can never have seen, in the eyes of his beggar maid, a look of more fervent gratitude and admiration than Rona lifted to her suitor's face.
Of love, as between man and woman, she knew nothing at all. His gentle and affectionate interest was just the thing to appeal to her. And marriage with him would mean life at Normansgrave—life in safety and honor, and clean, open-eyed peace: life undisturbed by secrets, and dark Brotherhoods, and sinister memories. It seemed to her that Denzil stood in sunlight, beckoning her; while, from some dark tunnel, David stretched out hands to drag her down.
There was bewilderment and vain regret in her voice as she told her lover: