"Did you tell her so?"
"Yes; I said that there must be no more backwardness on her part, no pretence of insuperable obstacles where none existed; that it must be yea, yea, or nay, nay, between us; that, in point of fact, she must have me or lose me."
"Did you say all this?"
"Yes; but not in so many words."
"I think she has treated you badly, and deserved to be frightened; there are no very real obstacles, as you say. Beatrix is a dear good girl, and will soon be old enough to look after her father and the parish. I always knew Dora's chief fault was a too great love of power."
"I shall be sorry to interfere with her prerogative as mistress of Crossgill Vicarage," he returned coldly.
"Now, Garth, that is hardly fair," rejoined his sister, smiling affectionately in his face. "Dora has behaved very badly, but she has not sinned past forgiveness; she has never cared for any one but you all her life. I think that ought to soften your resentment."
"I dare say we shall always be good friends," was the indifferent reply.
"The very best of friends. Why this is sheer nonsense, Garth; Dora would be miserable if she knew how she had hurt you. Take my advice, dear; sit down and write to her, she is lonely and unhappy, and full of anxiety about her sister. Tell her that you are serious in what you said to her; that you are not patient, and do not mean to be; that she must make up her mind to give you a decided answer, and see what she says. Do you think she would run the risk of losing you altogether?"
"It does not matter, I shall not give her the chance of refusing me again," he returned gloomily. "Thank you for your advice, Langley, but it has come too late; I have made up my mind that Dora and I will be better friends apart."