He had spoken rapidly; the pause that followed lasted longer than this lengthy speech.  And through it all they sat with eyes still locked, until he spoke again.

“You believe, at least, in the bona fides of my offer?”

And Rachel, still looking in his eyes, murmured that she did.

“You will bear in mind how essentially it differs from the ordinary offer of the kind; also, that I have never for a moment pretended to be in love with you?”

“I will.”

Steel had risen as if to go; the keen scrutiny was withdrawn, a distinct spell as distinctly broken; and yet he lingered, with a smile.

“That,” said he, “was a poor compliment to pay twice over!  But it is human to err, and in my anxiety not to do so on the side of sentiment I own myself in danger of flying to the other extreme.  Well, you know which is the common extreme in such cases; and at all events we shall avoid the usual pitfall.  I am going to give you a few minutes to think it over; then, if you care to go into it further, I shall be most happy; if not, the matter is at an end.”

A few minutes!  Rachel felt very angry, without knowing that she was most angry with herself for not feeling angrier still.  She had heard quite enough; it were weakness to listen to another word; and yet—­and yet—­

“Don’t go,” said Rachel, with some petulance; “that is quite unnecessary.  Anything more extraordinary—­but I owe you too much already to be your critic.  Still, I do think I am entitled to go a little further into the matter, as you said, without committing myself.”

“To be sure you are.”

But this time he remained standing; and for once he kept those mesmeric eyes to himself.  Obviously, Rachel was to have a chance.

“You spoke of your own country,” she began.  “Do you live abroad?”

There was the least suspicion of eagerness in the question.  Rachel herself was unaware of it; not so Mr. Steel, and he sighed.

“A mere figure,” he said; “what I meant was my own country-side.”

“And where is that?”

“In the north,” he replied vaguely.  “Did you look twice at my card?  Well, here is another, if you will do me that honor now.  The initials J. B. stand for no very interesting names—­John Buchanan.  A certain interest in the Buchanan, perhaps; it comes out in the flesh, I fancy, though not on the tongue.  As for the address, Normanthorpe House is the rather historic old seat of the family of that name; but they have so many vastly superior and more modern places, and the last fifty years have so ruined the surroundings, that I was able to induce the Duke to take a price for it a year or two ago.  He had hardly slept a night there in his life, and I got it lock-stock-and-barrel for a song.  The Northborough which, you will observe, it is ’near’—­a good four miles, as a matter of fact—­is the well-known centre of the Delverton iron-trade.  But you may very well have spent a year in this country without having heard of it; they would be shocked at Northborough, but nowhere else.”