"Like you! Of course he will," she exclaimed, in a tone which made him proud and happy.
There was an emphasis in her voice which seemed to assert that it would be impossible for her father to criticise him—at all events adversely.
"It would mean so much to me," he exclaimed, turning towards her.
Kitty stole a glance at him, and she observed that his face was no longer clouded, but bore a grave, questioning expression like that of a man in doubt with regard to some deeply serious matter.
"It would mean all the world to me," he said, meeting her glance.
"Why?" rose to Kitty's lips, but the words went no further. For as Gilbert kept his gaze fastened upon her, a subtle change was worked in his eyes; they were no longer shaded with doubt or anxious inquiry; they searched and challenged her with passionate appeal; they unmistakably asked the question of questions man can put to woman.
And though no sound passed Kitty Thornton's lips, she made no pretence of misunderstanding him. All the woman in her instantaneously rose up in quick response. All the love in her heart suddenly surged up in a great wave of feeling which flooded her eyes, now deep pools of light, with an unmistakable answer to the unmistakable question in his, thus bent upon her. Yet she trembled slightly, for she felt herself in the grasp of something new and strange and delightful, but just a little terrible and alarming.
And when Gilbert Eversleigh saw what he saw in Kitty's eyes, self-control became impossible, and he could restrain himself no longer.
"Kitty, Kitty," he said, in a deep earnest voice which thrilled the girl as she listened—"Kitty, my darling, I love you, I love you!"
Kitty trembled still more, and lowered her eyes shyly—perhaps to hide the light that glowed in them.