"You ought to beg my pardon," I said, "for thinking of me as you think, and talking to me as you talk."
"I do beg your pardon," he answered humbly. "I am sorry if I have offended you."
How could I resist that? I put my hand on his shoulder, and tried to make him lift up his head and look at me.
"You will always believe in me in the future?" I went on. "Promise me that."
"I can promise to try, Lucilla. As things are now I can promise no more."
"As things are now? You are speaking in riddles to-night. Explain yourself."
"I explained myself this morning on the pier."
Surely, this was hard on me—after he had promised to give me till the end of the week to consider his proposal? I took my hand off his shoulder. He—who never used to displease or disappoint me when I was blind—had displeased and disappointed me for the second time in a few minutes!
"Do you wish to force me?" I asked, "after telling me this morning that you would give me time to reflect?"
He rose, on his side—languidly and mechanically, like a man who neither knew nor cared what he was doing.