He went up, feeling a desperate man. To those of his temperament having to make a disagreeable communication such as this is almost as cruel as parting with life.
No one was in the drawing-room but Lady Kirton—stretched upon a sofa and apparently fast asleep. Val crossed the carpet with softened tread to the adjoining rooms: small, comfortable rooms, used by the dowager in preference to the more stately rooms below. Maude had drawn aside the curtain and was peering out into the frosty night.
"Why, how soon you are up!" she cried, turning at his entrance.
"I came on purpose, Maude. I want to speak to you."
"Are you well?" she asked, coming forward to the fire, and taking her seat on a sofa. In truth, he did not look very well just then. "What is it?"
"Maude," he answered, his fair face flushing a dark red as he plunged into it blindfold: "I am a rogue and a fool!"
Lady Maude laughed. "Elster's folly!"
"Yes. You know all this time that we—that I—" (Val thought he should never flounder through this first moment, and did not remain an instant in one place as he talked)—"have been going on so foolishly, I was—almost as good as a married man."
"Were you?" said she, quietly. "Married to whom?"
"I said as good as married, Maude. You know I have been engaged for years to Miss Ashton; otherwise I would have knelt to ask you to become my wife, so earnestly should I desire it."