"Ah, Mildred! you sly girl, you know all, and won't tell!" he cried, taking her hand half-fondly, half-playfully, and retaining it in his.
She could not answer; but the blush on her cheek was so bright, the downcast look so tender, that William Arkell gazed at her lovingly, and thought he had never seen his cousin's face so near akin to perfect beauty. Mildred glanced up to see his gaze of fond admiration.
"Your cheek tells tales, cousin mine," he whispered; "I see you have heard all. Don't you think it is time I married?"
A home question. Mildred's lips broke into a smile by way of answer.
"What do you think of my choice?"
"People will say you might have made a better."
"I don't care if they do," returned Mr. William, firing up. "I have a right to please myself, and I will please myself. I am not taking a wife for other people, meddling mischief-makers!"
The outburst seemed unnecessary. It struck Mildred that he must have seriously feared opposition from some quarter, the tone of his voice was so sore a one. She looked up with questioning eyes.
"I have plenty of money, you know, Mildred," he added, more quietly. "I don't want to look out for a fortune with my wife."
"Very true," murmured Mildred.