'Oh, Aunt Milly, ask him not to press me,' pleaded the girl; 'he is so good and patient in everything else, but he will not listen to me in this; he wants me to go home to him now, this Christmas.'
'Why should we wait?' replied Dr. Heriot, with an unusual touch of bitterness in his voice. 'I shall never grow younger; my home is solitary enough, Heaven knows; and in spite of all my kind friends here, I have to endure many lonely hours. Polly, if you loved me, I think you would hardly refuse.'
'He says right,' whispered Mildred, laying her cold hand on the girl's head. 'It is your duty; he has need of you.'
'I cannot,' replied Polly, in a choked voice; but as she saw the cloud over her lover's brow, she came again to his side, and knelt down beside him.
'I did not mean to grieve you, dear; but you will wait, will you not?'
'For what reason, Polly?' in a sterner voice than she had ever heard from him before.
'For many reasons; because—because—' she hesitated, 'I am young, and want to grow older and wiser for your sake; because—' and now a low sob interrupted her words, 'though I love you—dearly—ah, so dearly—I want to love you more, as I know I shall every day. You must not be angry with me if I try your patience a little.'
'I am not angry,' he repeated, slowly, 'but your manner troubles me. Are you sure you do not repent our engagement—that you love me, Polly?'
'Yes, yes; please do not say such things,' clinging to him, and crying as though her heart would break.
They had almost forgotten Mildred, shrinking back in the corner of her couch.