It had all come about so rapidly, and withal so quietly, that, when Vera came to think of it, it rather took her breath away. She had expected it, of course; indeed, she had even planned and tried for it; but, when it had actually come to her, she felt herself to be bewildered by the suddenness of it.
In the end the climax of the love-making had been prosaic enough. Sir John had not felt himself equal to the task of a personal interview with the lady of his affections, with the accompanying risks of a personal rejection, which, in his modesty and humility with reference to her, he had believed to be quite on the cards. So he had written to her. The note had been taken up to the vicarage by the footman, and had been brought into the dining-room by the vicarial parlour-maid, just as the three ladies were finishing breakfast, and after the vicar himself had left the room.
"A note from Kynaston, please 'm," says rosy-cheeked Hannah, holding it forth before her, upon a small japanned tray, as an object of general family interest and excitement.
"For your master, Hannah?" says old Mrs. Daintree. "Are they waiting for an answer? You will find him in his study."
"No, ma'am, it's for Miss Vera."
"Dear me!" with a suspicious glance across the table; "how very odd!"
Vera takes up the note and opens it.
"May I have the crest, auntie?" clamours Tommy before she had read three words of it.
"Is it about the horse he has offered you to ride?" asks his mother.
But Vera answers nothing; she gets up quietly, and leaves the room without a word.