“I will not beat about the bush, Miss Morison,” said Philip. “I have come to see Nina—to ask her to marry me. I would have done so already—last winter at Esparto—but your mother’s illness, the difficulty of seeing any of you the latter part of the time, interfered, and I thought it, for other reasons too, better to wait. Nina has no father and mother—you are not much older, but you are the eldest, and I know you have immense influence over her. Before seeing her, I should like to know my ground with you. Do you wish me well?”
In face of this straightforward address Lettice felt, for a moment, off her guard.
“You have never consulted me hitherto,” she said evasively.
“That is not the question now,” said Philip. “Tell me, do you wish me well, and, still more, do you—do you think I am likely to succeed?” At this Lettice looked up at him.
“I don’t know,” she said, and she spoke honestly. “Almost the only thing I am sure of is that I wish you had not thought of it—not come here.”
Philip’s bright, handsome face fell; he looked in a moment years older.
“You think there is something in the way, I see,” he said. “Ah! well, there is nothing for it but to make sure. I must see Nina herself. Where is she?”
“She is out,” said Lettice, and her face flushed. “She is out walking with Godfrey Auriol.” Something in her tone and expression made Philip stop short and look at her sharply. She bore his look unflinchingly, and that perhaps impressed him more than her words. She was able to do so, for she was not conscious of deceiving him. She deceived herself; her determined prejudice and self-will blinded her to all but their own tendencies and conclusions. Mr Dexter’s eyes dropped. At this same moment there flashed before his memory the strangely enthusiastic tone with which Godfrey had spoken of—as Philip thought—Nina, that first morning at Esparto. His face was very pale when he looked up again.
“Miss Morison—Lettice,” he said, “you do not like me, but you are incapable of misleading me. You think there is something between Nina and Mr Auriol?”
“He is very fond of her,” said Lettice. “I do not know exactly, but I think—”