She rose up, and turned her face towards him, bending upon him her now timid gaze.
“I must not listen to you, Mr. ‘Wilton,” she said, in a low, sad tone.
“No?” he cried, in a startled tone; “why not? You love another, Lotte, is that why?” he asked, excitedly.
She shook her head gently.
“No,” she replied.
He uttered an audible sigh of relief.
“That is glad tidings!” he ejaculated, with evident satisfaction, and added—“Before we proceed farther—before you say to me aught which may be unsatisfactory in my ears—let us, dear, dear Lotte, come to a decided understanding with each other. I love you, oh! so dearly. You have confessed to me you love no other man——”
“My brother!” said Lotte, archly—serious as she was at heart, she could not forbear the observation.
He waved his hand impatiently.
“Oh, Lotte! tell me, do you—at least, I should say, do you think you could be brought at some future time to love me?”