‘If I tell you a great many things, will you promise to keep them entirely to yourself?’ he enquired, in an access of gracious elder brotherhood. He longed for a confidant.
‘Oh, yes! yes!’ cried Agneta, running her arm through his, ‘I will not even tell Mary.’
‘I think she has seen the folly of her refusal,’ said he, gravely. ‘I saw her a few weeks ago; in fact, I renewed my offer, but she said she could not listen to me so soon after her aunt’s death. I am going back next January and I have reason to suppose, in fact, Barc—— I am almost sure she will accept me then. I trust you will receive her kindly, Agneta. I shall look to you.’
Between gratification at his words and apprehension for the future his sister was almost struck dumb.
‘What will Mama say?’ she exclaimed when she found her tongue.
‘I am afraid it does not much matter what Mama says,’ replied Crauford, with playful intrepidity.
He knew very well that he would not be at Fordyce to hear.
But there was no use in meeting troubles half-way and Agneta was dying to know more.
‘Is she tall, brother?’
‘Rather tall,’ he replied. ‘She has a beautiful figure—very slender.’