He spoke in a pitiful tone, and his voice trembled. I was surprised that he showed so much feeling.
"Rachel," said I, as soon as we were alone, "won't you answer me now? You must know how much I love you. Will you be my wife?"
"Oh, Mr. Browne, I cannot! I cannot!" she whispered.
I was silent, for my fears came uppermost. Pressing one hand to my forehead, I thought of a thousand things in a moment. Nothing seemed more probable than that she should already have a lover across the sea. Seeing my distress, she spoke.
"Don't think, Mr. Browne," she began, earnestly, "that it is because I do not"—
There she stopped. I gazed eagerly in her face. It was strangely agitated. I should hardly have known my calm, white-faced Rachel. Just then I heard the stage stop at the bars.
"Oh, Rachel!" I cried, "go on! What mustn't I think? What shall I think?"
"Don't think me ungrateful,—you have been so kind," she said, softly.
"And is that all?" I asked.
"Stage ready!" called out the driver.