“Oh, Richard!”
“Aunt Letitia made fools of both of us, Jilian. I have told her to leave my house.”
Miss Hardacre hung her head and pressed her hands together.
“You know everything, Richard.”
“Poor Wilson told me everything, and it was nothing, Jilian.”
“I am a shamed and miserable woman.”
“Shamed, Jilian? Let me hear any man breathe a word against you.”
Miss Hardacre suffered her eyes to quaver up for a moment to Richard’s face. The lad could see tears ready to well up into those pellucid wells of light.
“What can I say to you, Richard?” she said. “Oh, I am very miserable.”
How could an honorable and generous youth refrain from going down on one knee, pressing the lady’s hand to his lips, and gazing up with enthusiastic homage into her face? The hot words were betwixt Richard’s lips in a moment, and Miss Hardacre was hiding her blushes behind her hand.