“You have come here to insult me!” she cried, indignantly, “and unless you immediately depart, I will summon assistance. Leave my room, sir!”
She uttered this in a loud tone of voice. The young man, with an alarmed aspect, raised both his hands deprecatingly.
“Hush! hush! don’t make such a noise,” he cried; “I have not come here to insult you; I like you too much for that, upon my honour and soul I do. Now sit down, and let me talk quietly to you. I am wealthy, and——”
Lotte stamped her foot passionately.
“Quit this room, sir! Quit this house this instant, sir, or I’ll scream for help.”
With a hurried gesture, the intruder closed the door, and said, hastily—
“I tell you I don’t want in any way to offend you; I came here, if possible, to make you think well of me, and look kindly upon me, as I do on you. Consider, I am a gentleman born, I don’t mind telling you that; I am a Grahame, I don’t mind telling you that, too.”
Lotte started as she heard the name, and, with distended eyelids, looked again at his face.
“What—what name?” she inquired.
“Grahame,” he answered, “Grahame. We’ve a place in the Regent’s Park and one in Scotland. My name is Malcolm—Malcolm Grahame. I saw you in the garden at Mr. Wilton’s—don’t you recollect?”