No, he must do it at once. He would ride out that very day, and gain, as he did not doubt that he would gain, the Squire’s permission to speak to Josina. He would leave no room for accidents, and, setting these aside, he did not doubt the result.
He carried out his intention in spite of some demur on Clement’s part, who in his new-born zeal thought that in his father’s absence the other ought to remain on the spot. But Arthur had the habit of the upper hand, and with a contemptuous fling at Clement’s own truancies, took it now. He was at Garth before sunset of the short November day, and he had not sat in the Squire’s room ten minutes before chance gave him the opening he desired.
The old man had been listening to the town news, and apparently had been engrossed in it. But suddenly, he leant forward, and poked Arthur with the end of his stick. “Here do you tell me!” he said. “What ails the girl? I’ve no eyes, but I’ve ears, and there’s something. What’s amiss with her, eh?”
“Do you mean Josina, sir?”
“Who else, man? I asked you what’s the matter with her. D’you think I don’t know that there is something? I’ve all my senses but one, thank God, and I can hear if I can’t see! What is it?”
Arthur saw in a moment that here was the opportunity, he needed, and he made haste to seize it. “The truth is, sir——” he said with a candor which was attractive. “I was going to speak to you about Josina, I have been wishing to do so for some time.”
“Eh? Well?”
“I have said nothing to her. But it is possible that she may be aware of my feelings.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” the Squire said drily. It was impossible to say whether he was pleased or not.
“If I had your permission to speak to her, sir?” Arthur felt, now that he had come to the point, just the amount of nervousness which was becoming. “We have been brought up together, and I don’t think that I can be taking you by surprise.”