“We need not walk quite so fast,” he said, checking her, for she was hurrying again. “Look here, Miss Mattie, I want to ask you a queer sort of question, if only this confounded wind will let me make myself heard. Please don’t laugh; I don’t want to be laughed at, for I am quite in earnest. But have you any special objection to red hair?—I mean, do you particularly dislike it?”
Mattie opened her eyes rather widely at this. “No, I rather like it,” she returned, without a moment’s hesitation, and quite in the dark as to his possible meaning.
“Oh, that is all right,” he returned, cheerfully. “You won’t believe it, Miss Mattie, but, though I am such a great big fellow, I am as bashful as anything; and I have always had a fancy that no one would have me because of my red hair.”
“What an idea!” observed Mattie, with a little laugh, for she thought this so droll, and had not the dimmest idea of his real purpose in asking her such a question.
“Don’t laugh, please,” he remonstrated, “for I am quite serious; I never was more serious in my life; for this sort of thing is so awkward for a fellow. Then, Miss Mattie, you won’t say ‘No’ to me?”
Mattie stared; but Sir Harry’s face, red and embarrassed as it was, gave her no clue to his meaning.
“I don’t think you understand me,” he said, a little impatiently; “and yet I am sure I am putting it very plainly. You 354 don’t object to me, do you, Miss Mattie? I am sure I will do my best to make you happy. Gilsbank is a pretty place, and we shall have Aunt Catherine and the girls near us. We shall all be as merry as larks, if you will only promise to marry me, for I have liked you from the first; I have indeed, Miss Mattie.”
Sir Harry was a gentleman, in spite of his rough ways. He understood in a moment, when Mattie’s answer to this was a very feeble clutch at his arm, as though her strength were deserting her. What with the sudden surprise of these words, and the force of the wind, the poor little woman felt herself reeling.
“Stand here for a moment, and I will shelter you from the wind. No, don’t speak; just hold on, and keep quiet: there is no hurry. No one shall scold you, if I can help it. I am afraid”—speaking as gently as to a child—“that I have been a little rough and sudden with you. Do you feel faint? I never saw you look so pale. What a thoughtless brute I have been!”
“No,—oh, no,” panted Mattie; “only I am so giddy, and—so happy.” The last words were half whispered, but he caught them. “Are you sure you really mean this, Sir Harry?”