'Hush! Heartsease, my darling—hush! you distress me,' soothing her with the utmost tenderness. 'We will talk of this again; you shall not be hampered or vexed by me. I am not so selfish as that, Polly.'
'No, you are goodness itself,' she replied, remorsefully; and now she kissed his hand—oh, so gratefully. 'But you must never say that again—never—never.'
'What?'
'That I do not love you; it is not the truth; it cannot be, you know. You do not think it?' looking up fearfully into his face.
'I think you love me a little,' he answered, lightly—too lightly, Mildred thought, for the gloomy look had not passed away from his eyes.
'He is disappointed; he thinks as I do, that perfect love ought to cast out fear,' she said to herself.
But whatever were his thoughts, he did not give utterance to them, but only seemed bent on soothing Polly's agitation. When he had succeeded, he sent her away, to get rid of all traces of tears, as he said, but as the door closed on her, Mildred noticed a weary look crossed his face.
How her heart yearned to comfort him!
'Right or wrong, I suppose I must abide by her decision, he said at last, speaking more to himself than to her. That roused her.
'I do not think so,' she returned, speaking with her old energy. 'Give her a little time to get used to the idea, and then speak to her again. The thought of Christmas has startled her. Perhaps Easter would frighten her less.'