"Christopher, we will not blame you," resumed Mr. Sharp, rather hastily, for fear that his wife should jump up and spoil all. "Our object in calling you is not that. You have acted according to our wishes mainly, though you need not have done it so furtively. You have formed an attachment to a certain young lady, who leads for the present a retired life, in a quiet part of the old Stow Wood. And she returns your affection. Is it so, or is it not?"
"I—I—I," stammered Kit, seeking for his mother's eyes, which had buried themselves in her handkerchief. "I can't say a word about what she thinks. She—she—she has got such a fashion of running away so. But I—I—I—well, then, it's no good telling a lie about it; I am deucedly fond of her!"
"That is exactly what I wished to know; though not expressed very tastefully. Well, and do you know who she is, my son?"
"Yes, I know all that quite well; as much as any fellow wants to know. She is a young lady, and she knows all the flowers, and the birds, and the names of the trees almost. She can put me right about the kings of England; and she knows my dogs as well as I do."
"A highly accomplished young lady, in short?"
"Yes, I should say a great deal more than that. I care very little for accomplishments. But—but if I must come to the point—I do like her, and no mistake!"
"Then you would not like some other man to come, and run away with her, quite against her will?"
"That man must run over my body first," cried Kit, with so much spirit that his father looked proud, and his poor mother trembled.
"Well, well, my boy," continued the good lawyer, "it will be your own fault if the villain gets the chance. I am doing all I can to provide against it; and am even obliged to employ some means of a nature not at all congenial to me, for—for that very reason. You are sure that you love this young lady, Kit?"
"Father, I would not say anything strong; but I would go on my knees, all the way from here to there, for the smallest chance of getting her!"