The girl looked up at him again with that soft, vague smile. She made a movement as if to place her hand in his—then checked herself, having learned that such ways of testifying her pleasure were not generally approved of. Sir Alexis had been very kind to her. He had petted her as a man of mature age is permitted to pet a child, bringing her flowers and fruit and pretty things, and asking no comprehension, no reply, except the smile. She felt at her ease with him. It did not even occur to her to inquire what he could want now. And it is impossible to describe the bewildering effect which this had upon the mind of the man who wanted to present himself to Innocent as her lover. He was struck dumb. He looked at her with a wondering gaze—baffled, silenced, in all his superior sense and knowledge. But he had brought her here for the purpose of making this disclosure of his wishes; he had been left with her under this special understanding, and he felt that only ridicule could be his fate if his courage failed him. To be daunted by Innocent! The thought was too absurd. And yet when he looked at her he felt daunted still.
“Innocent,” he said, “I have a great deal to say to you; but you are so—young, that it is difficult to say it. You were afraid just now of being sent away. Did it ever occur to you that you might some time go away of your own will?”
“I go away? Where should I go?” said Innocent. “I should have liked to have stayed at Pisa; but now I know better—I have nothing, no money, no home. I could not go away. And, besides, I do not wish it. It is best here.”
“You are fond of them, then, now?”
Innocent made a little pause, looking at him as if to fathom his meaning before she said simply, “Yes;” and Sir Alexis, with all his experience, grew red under the girl’s look; but in reality she had no thought of fathoming what he meant. She never asked herself whether he meant anything; she paused only to collect her wandering intelligence. Was she fond of them? She had scarcely asked herself the question—her feelings towards them had been passive more than active—“Yes,”—no more than that; no girlish enthusiasm or effusiveness was possible to her.
“And Ellinor is fond of her mother—fonder than you can be; but yet some day soon she will go away——”
“Nelly?—ah, that will be when she is married,” said Innocent, with a livelier tone.
“And you, too, will be married some time.”
“Shall I?” she said with a smile. “No, I do not think so—Why? Some people are never married; and some——” here she stopped short, and a sombre look came over her face. Sir Alexis, following her eyes, imagined that they rested on a portrait of Frederick, and the thought gave him a pang.
“Some would have been better if they had not married,” he said. “Innocent, what should you think of marrying me——?”