"Certainly, Mr. Crawford, if I possibly could." He rose and went to her where she sat by the table, and bent over her, and said in a low, tremulous, tender voice, "Thank you--thank you a thousand times, my dear Miss Layard, my dear Hetty--may I call you Hetty?"
She coloured and looked uncomfortable, and this made her shine in his eyes with ineffable beauty. "It is not usual," she said at last.
"No, it is not usual, but I would deem it a great privilege. I of course would not call you by your dear Christian name when any one was by, but when you and I were having a little chat by ourselves I might, might I?"
Her colour and her confusion increased. "It is not usual," she repeated. "There is no reason why you should call me one thing now and another thing at another time." She raised her eyes, drew away a little from him, and pointing to the chair, said with steady emphasis which surprised herself, and showed him he must go no further--now, anyway: "I am afraid you are not yet rested enough to stand so long. Will you not sit down again?"
"You are right," he said with a deep sigh. "You are quite right. I am completely worn out, and my head is confused."
"There is no couch in your own room--perhaps you would like to rest on the one here? You will not be disturbed for some hours yet. My brother does not come in till three."
"Thank you very much, Miss Layard," he said, without any emphasis on her name. "But I think I'll go to my own room and lie down now. If I could get an hour's sleep I should be all right."
When he stood alone in his own room he said to himself, "I have not made much progress with her yet. I durst not go any further to-day than I went. Next time I ask her I'd bet a thousand pounds to a penny she'll give me leave to call her Hetty when we're alone. Once let her give me leave to call her Hetty when we are alone while I am to call her Miss Layard when any one else is present, and the rest is simple. My dreams"--he uttered his short sharp laugh and winked his eyes rapidly--"my dreams and my enormous solicitude for her welfare must tell in the end."
He went to the open window and looked out at the canal and the Ait and the tow-path. Then he turned his eyes downward.
With a cry of terror he sprang back, as though a deadly weapon or venomous snake in act to strike were a hand's breadth from his breast.