"Is it Mary Ashley?"
The burning flush of scarlet that dyed his face, even to the very roots of his hair, told Mr. Ashley the truth, far more effectually than words could have done. There ensued a pause. Mr. Ashley was the first to break it.
"How long have you loved her?"
"For years. That has been the wild dream of my aspirations: one that I knew would never be realized," he answered, suffering his eyes to meet for a moment Mr. Ashley's.
"Have you spoken to her of it?"
"Never."
"Or led her to believe you loved her?"
"No, sir. Unless my looks and tones may have betrayed me. I fear they have; but it was not intentionally done."
"Honest in this, as in all else," thought Mr. Ashley. "What am I to say to you?" he asked aloud.
"I do not know," sighed William. "I expect, of course, sir, that you will forbid me Deoffam Hall: but I can still meet Henry at the house in town. I hope you will forgive me!" he added in an impassioned tone. "I could not help loving her. Before I knew what my new feelings meant, love had come. Such love! Had I been in a position to marry her, I would have made her life one dream of happiness! When I awoke to it all——"