“By-the-way,” she said, quietly, over her shoulder, “I know why you and I have met here.”
And as Crawford said nothing she reeled in her line, and held out her hand to him as a signal that she wished to come ashore.
He aided her, taking the rod and guiding her carefully across the dusky stepping-stones to the bank.
She shook out her damp skirts, then raised her face, which had grown a trifle pale.
“I will marry you, Mr. Crawford,” she said, bravely,—“and I hope you will make me love you. Mr. Garcide wishes it.… I understand … that you wish it. You must not feel embarrassed, … nor let me feel embarrassed. Come and talk it over. Shall we?”
There was a rustic seat on the river-bank; she sat down in one corner.
His face was in shadow; he had dropped his rod and landing-net abruptly. And now he took an uncertain step towards her and sat down at her side.
“I want you to make me love you,” she said, frankly; “I hope you will; I shall do all I can to help you. But—unless I do—will you remember that?—I do not love you.” As he was silent, she went on: “Take me as a comrade; I will go where you wish. I am really a good comrade; I can do what men do. You shall see! It will be pleasant, I think.”
After a little while he spoke in a low voice which was not perfectly steady: “Miss Castle, I am going to tell you something which you must know. I do not believe that Mr. Garcide has authorized me to offer myself to you.”
“He told me that he desired it,” she said. “That is why he brought us together. And he also said,” she added, hastily, “that you were somewhat bashful. So I thought it best to make it easy for us both. I hope I have.”