“What excuse?”
“Well, you see, he has a high idea of your family, and he thought you were rich people. And—I know you didn’t mean it, Amelius—but, still, you did disappoint him.”
Amelius dropped her arm. This mildly-persistent defence of Mr. Farnaby exasperated him.
“Perhaps I have disappointed you?” he said.
“Oh, no, no! Oh, how cruel you are!” The ready tears showed themselves
again in her magnificent eyes—gentle considerate tears that raised
no storm in her bosom, and produced no unbecoming results in her face.
“Don’t be hard on me!” she said, appealing to him helplessly, like a
charming overgrown child.
Some men might have still resisted her; but Amelius was not one of them. He took her hand, and pressed it tenderly.
“Regina,” he said, “do you love me?”
“You know I do!”
He put his arm round her waist, he concentrated the passion that was in him into a look, and poured the look into her eyes. “Do you love me as dearly as I love you?” he whispered.
She felt it with all the little passion that was in her. After a moment of hesitation, she put one arm timidly round his neck, and, bending her grand head, laid it on his bosom. Her finely-rounded, supple, muscular figure trembled, as if she had been the most fragile woman living. “Dear Amelius!” she murmured inaudibly. He tried to speak to her—his voice failed him. She had, in perfect innocence, fired his young blood. He drew her closer and closer to him: he lifted her head, with a masterful resolution which she was not able to resist, and pressed his kisses in hot and breathless succession on her lips. His vehemence frightened her. She tore herself out of his arms with a sudden exertion of strength that took him completely by surprise. “I didn’t think you would have been rude to me!” With that mild reproach, she turned away, and took the path which led from the shrubbery to the house. Amelius followed her, entreating that she would accept his excuses and grant him a few minutes more. He modestly laid all the blame on her beauty—lamented that he had not resolution enough to resist the charm of it. When did that commonplace compliment ever fail to produce its effect? Regina smiled with the weakly complacent good-nature, which was only saved from being contemptible by its association with her personal attractions. “Will you promise to behave?” she stipulated. And Amelius, not very eagerly, promised.