“Pretty, Jilian?”
“Now, Richard, I am sure she was pretty.”
“Perhaps she was,” said Richard, with studied carelessness. “Were she ugly or otherwise, I only did my duty as a gentleman and a man.”
“You dear lad,” quoth Miss Hardacre, tenderly.
“Jilian!”
“Now don’t pretend you don’t know how brave and noble you are. Ah, Heavens, only to think of it; the wretch might have killed you! It makes me shudder, Richard; it does indeed.”
Jeffray, much touched, looked at the young lady with affectionate and chivalrous candor.
“And should you have cared, dear cousin?” he asked her.
Miss Hardacre flushed crimson and hung her head. How pretty her downcast lashes looked as they swept her fair cheeks; what a sweet, sad smile hovered about her lips.
“Oh, Richard,” she said, “can you not believe—?”