When they had got a little way from the hut, Hannah said: 

“Mr. Brudenell, why do you come to our poor little house so often?”

The question, though it was expected, was perplexing.

“Why do I come, Hannah?  Why, because I like to.”

“Because you like to!  Quite a sufficient reason for a gentleman to render for his actions, I suppose you think.  But, now, another question:  ‘What are your intentions towards my sister?’”

“My intentions!” repeated the young man, in a thunderstruck manner.  “What in the world do you mean, Hannah?”

“I mean to remind you that you have been visiting Nora for the last two months, and that to-day, when I entered the house, I found you sitting together as lovers sit; looking at each other as lovers look; and speaking in the low tones that lovers use; and when I reached you, you started in confusion—­as lovers do when discovered at their love-making.  Now I repeat my question, ’What are your intentions towards Nora Worth?’”

Herman Brudenell was blushing now, if he had never blushed before; his very brow was crimson.  Hannah had to reiterate her question before his hesitating tongue could answer it.

“My intentions, Hannah?  Nothing wrong, I do swear to you!  Heaven knows, I mean no harm.”

“I believe that, Mr. Brudenell!  I have always believed it, else be sure that I should have found means to compel your absence.  But though you might have meant no harm, did you mean any good, Mr. Brudenell?”

“Hannah, I fear that I meant nothing but to enjoy the great pleasure I derived from—­from—­Nora’s society, and—­”

“Stop there, Mr. Brudenell; do not add—­mine; for that would be an insincerity unworthy of you!  Of me you did not think, except as a marplot!  You say you came for the great pleasure you enjoyed in Nora’s society!  Did it ever occur to you that she might learn to take too much pleasure in yours?  Answer me truly.”

“Hannah, yes, I believed that she was very happy in my company.”

“In a word, you liked her, and you knew you were winning her liking!  And yet you had no intentions of any sort, you say; you meant nothing, you admit, but to enjoy yourself!  How, Mr. Brudenell, do you think it a manly part for a gentleman to seek to win a poor girl’s love merely for his pastime?”

“Hannah, you are severe on me!  Heaven knows I have never spoken one word of love to Nora.”

“‘Never spoken one word!’ What of that?  What need of words?  Are not glances, are not tones, far more eloquent than words?  With these glances and tones you have a thousand times assured my young sister that you love her, that you adore her, that you worship her!”

“Hannah, if my eyes spoke this language to Nora, they spoke Heaven’s own truth!  There!  I have told you more than I ever told her, for to her my eyes only have spoken!” said the young man fervently.

“Of what were you talking with your heads so close together this morning?” asked Hannah abruptly.