"You cannot marry Rose. You must stop and hear me;" and she planted herself between him and the door.
"Then I must escape by the window; and there she is, standing at the farther end of the gallery. How spirited and sweet she looks--how like our Lina!... Millicent, you will pity, and not come in between? Look, she sees us! She starts. She is coming to us with that pretty shyness which seems half defiance. One would think she knew you well, Millicent?"
"She does, Joseph. Listen to her when we meet; it will save a world of painful explanation."
Rose came forward, not very quickly, though pride forbade her faltering. She held her head erect, and her colour was heightened; but her eyes were far from steady, and for all her endeavours to outface the situation, betrayed an inclination to seek the ground.
"You here, Aunt Millicent? I did not know that you and Mr Naylor were acquainted."
"Aunt Millicent? Are you two related, then?" gasped Joseph, his nether jaw falling.
"She is your own daughter, Joseph Naylor! It was to tell you so that I sought you out--to preserve you from the hideous mistake you were about to make. But oh! it breaks my heart that I should be your messenger of evil tidings again."
Joseph leant against the window-jamb, looking very pale, and uttering a sigh so deep that it sounded like a moan.
"Do you mean that she is Lina's child?" he said, after a pause.
"Yes; and yours."