‘When was he last here?’
‘About a week since.’
‘And when did he promise to return?’
‘On the same day,’ answered the girl, in a low tone.
‘And he has not kept that promise. The first of a series of black-hearted lies!’ exclaimed Rust, bitterly, speaking more to himself than to her. ‘In these cases, lies come first, and the truth last.’ He again addressed her: ‘Does he speak of marriage? and do you urge it upon him?’
‘I do, indeed I do!’ replied the girl, apparently anxious to hit upon something to conciliate the stern mood of her parent. ‘Often and often, I beg him to do it, and remind him of his promise.’
‘And what is his answer?’ demanded Rust, with a half-mocking smile.
‘He says that he cannot marry me just now, but that he will soon. He wishes to obtain the consent of his father, who is very ill, and cannot [!-- original reads 488 --]be spoken to about it; but that he will soon be better, and that then it will all be settled.’
‘How long has he been making these excuses?’
‘A very long time—a very long time,’ said the girl, sadly: ‘A month and more.’