He thanked her eloquently, and talked to her a little longer, kindly and affectionately, and then he offered to seek her father; and left her to her agitated reflections. What a fine, dignified man he looked! Could it be possible that this was her lot in life? And the very sun which had risen upon her planning a walk with Mary Elliot next week, was yet streaming upon her poor pots of geraniums on the dusty window-sill. She quitted her seat, and began to walk quickly up and down.
"Leslie, you are shaking the room." Mamma had been in the further window with her sewing all the time.
Leslie stole behind the brown window-curtain, fluttering her hand among the folds.
"Leslie, you are pulling that curtain awry."
"I cannot help it, mamma."
"Why not, child? Are you ill?"
"Yes—no, mamma. I don't know what to think—I can't think. But Hector Garret has asked me to be his wife."
Mrs. Bower's needle dropped from her fingers. She stared at her daughter. She rose slowly.
"Impossible, Leslie," she observed.
Leslie laughed hysterically.