"What is the matter, Coquette? Does it grieve you to think of what I ask?"
"No, no!" she said, hurriedly, "it is right of you to ask it--and I--I must say Yes. My uncle does expect it, does he not? And you yourself, Tom, you have been very good to me, and if only this will make you happy I will be your wife, but not until after many years."
"If you only knew how proud and happy you have made me!" exclaimed Tom, gaily. "I call upon the leaves of the trees, and all the drops in the river, and all the light in the air to bear witness that I have won Coquette for my wife."
"Ah, you foolish boy!" she said sadly. "You have given me a dangerous name. But no matter; if it pleases you to-day to think I shall be your wife, I am glad."
III.--The Opening of the Gates
Coquette, who loved the sunshine as a drunkard loves drink, was seated in the park in Glasgow, reading a book under her sunshade, when Lord Earlshope walked up to the place where she sat.
"Ah, it is you! I do wish much to see you for a few moments," she said. "First, I must tell you I have promised to my cousin to be his wife. I did tell you I should do that; now it is done, and he is glad. And so, as I am to be his wife, I do not think it is right I should see you any more."
"Coquette," he said, "have you resolved to make your life miserable? What have you done?"
"I have done what I ought to do. My cousin is very good; he is very fond of me; he will break his heart if I do not marry him. And I do like him very well, too. Perhaps in some years it will be a pleasure to me to be his wife."
"Coquette," he interrupted, "you do not blame me for being unable to help you. I am going to tell you why I cannot. Many a time have I determined to cell you."