“‘Of course you thought so,—perfectly natural, the wish being father to the thought.’ How that made him blush and stammer,—almost as badly as the Silent Tomb in its courting days. Now, boys” (meaning her husband and the subscriber), “I leave it to you: wasn’t I a regular Macchiavelli? Didn’t I manage it neatly? You see it would not have done to let him see that I was acting as Mary’s friend, even though without her knowledge and consent; and she would never have forgiven me. So, at the very outset, I planted an interrogation-point in his mind. ‘What is she coming to?’ he kept thinking; but I was there already. I had made my reconnoissance and found out where the enemy was weak; but, as you veterans know, after a reconnoissance, the trouble is to get back to camp without loss. This is how I managed that: ‘To begin,’ said I, ‘with Mary Rolfe. Her you love. That’s admitted? Well, silence gives consent. Now, whether you have told her so in words or not is more than I can tell; for, although Mary and I are very intimate, girls do not—’”
“Oh!” grunted Charley.
“Well, in theory they do not,” replied Alice, laughing.
“‘Whether you have told her in words,’ said I—
“‘I have told her neither in words nor otherwise,’ said he.
“‘Indeed,’ said I, ‘that’s strange! strange, that you should have kept her alone in darkness. You must be aware that you have told every one else, as plainly as looks, at least, can speak. But I must proceed; I have no time to discuss that.’ ‘One moment,—you say that my looks have revealed my sentiments. Are you quite sure of this?’ ‘The fabled ostrich and the sand!’ said I, laughing. ‘Confound it! Excuse me,—well, I suppose I deceive myself, as other men do. There is our friend Charley, for instance, the woman-hater! Now, he fondly imagines that nobody knows that he adores somebody!’”
“Fondly! H’m! Well, go on,” said Charley.
“I colored faintly at this, for blushing is becoming to me. ‘And, yet,’ said I, ‘I venture to say that the somebody in question knew what was taking place in his mind even before he suspected it.’ ‘Did you really?’ asked he. ‘I have no doubt she did,’ said I. ‘All women are alike in that,’ I added; ‘but let us proceed.’ ‘One moment,’ said he; ‘if all women are alike in this intuitive power, then I infer that Miss Rolfe cannot fail to have remarked that I—’ Here I gave my shoulders a diplomatic shrug, which brought him to a dead pause. He nodded his head gently up and down a little while, and seemed in great perplexity. ‘Miss Carter,’ said he, suddenly looking up, ‘will you be my friend and advise me?’ ‘I am your friend,’ said I, ‘and will do what I can in the way of advice.’ Then he looked down for a long time, his face all corrugated with cross-purposes. My blood began to run a little chill. Was the great mystery about to be revealed?
“‘You say that by my bearing and looks I have, to all intents and purposes, declared myself a lover of Miss Rolfe. Now, suppose—and I pledge you my word that it is so—suppose all this was unintentional on my part; suppose that I have striven not to show just what you say I have shown,’—he paused again as before. ‘No,’ said he, resuming, in a half-musing way, as though he thought aloud, ‘I don’t see how I can lay the whole case before her’ (meaning me, I suppose). ‘Ah,’ said he, his face brightening, ‘let us suppose a case. Suppose I loved you dearly,—a very supposable case, by the way,—and you did not suspect it.’ ‘Not a supposable case; but go on.’ ‘Well,’ said he, smiling, ‘at that wharf, yonder, lies a ship ready to sail. I am to go in her to seek my fortune in the wide world, somewhere; ought I to speak, or would it not be nobler to bid you farewell with my secret locked in my breast?’
“I saw, of course, how matters stood. The supposed case was a purely imaginary one. His perplexity had been due to the difficulty of avoiding all allusion to his incognito. ‘I don’t pretend to know which would be the nobler course for you; but I should want to know it, and hear it from your own lips, too, were you to be off for Japan in fifteen minutes. The sweetest music in the world to a woman’s ears is the voice of a man telling her that he loves her; and it is music of so potent a character, that it often melts a heart that was cold before.’