"Miss Athern, was not my letter plain enough—do you not believe me? I do not understand your silence."
"Your—your letter was fully understood, Mr. Hinsdale, and I thank—"
"You thank me, Florence!"
Then in earnest language he told her how he loved her, and how his fear that his letter had not reached her had brought him there, preferring the pain of a double refusal to the doubt in which he must have awaited her reply by post. To all this Florence listened with head bent down and hands clasped; and when he paused for a reply, she pointed to the letter lying on the table. He took it up and walked to the window; a painful silence followed, broken only by the rustling of the paper in his hands. When he had finished reading, he came to her side, and leaning over her said:
"Am I to receive this as your answer?"
"Yes!" said Florence in a whisper.
"A final and decisive answer?"
"Yes!"
"Then pardon me. Miss Athern, that I allowed my heart to read your conduct as I hoped it was meant, not as you really meant it. I gave you credit for a nobler heart than you possess. Let me tell you the truth, though what I say seems a reproach, that offer would never have been made had I not felt assured, by your treatment of me, that it would be accepted."
Florence started, and the eloquent blood rushed to her very temples.