“You have a mother,” says Tita.  “I,” pathetically, “have nothing.”  It is plain to him that she had set great store by her dead father.  “I have nothing, really.  But you say this house must go?”

“Not if you will help me to keep it.”

“I should not like to live here,” says Tita, with some haste.  And then in a low tone, “Your mother would live here?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Well, and I—­I have been very unhappy with Uncle George,” says she.  Her air is so naïve that Rylton bursts out laughing.  After all, the last thing he would desire either would be to live here with his mother.

“You would not have to make this place your home,” says he.  It had never been a home to him since his father’s death.  “You shall command me in this matter; I shall live at Oakdean if that is your desire.”  Indeed, it seems to him it would be a great relief to get away from the Hall, from his mother, from——­

“To live at Oakdean!” The girl’s face grows transfigured.  She stares at him as if hardly seeing him, however; her thoughts have carried her back to past delights in which he has had no part.  “To live there again!” She sighs quickly, excitedly.  “You haven’t seen it, you don’t know," says she.  “But it is the most beautiful place on earth.”  She puts out her hand and lays it on his.  “If I marry you, will you promise that I shall live at Oakdean?”

“If you will do me the honour to marry me, you shall live just where you like,” returns he.  Indeed, to him it is now a matter of indifference where life may be dragged out to its weary end.  But Tita fails to see the apathy in his manner.

“Then, it is settled,” cries she joyfully.  She clasps her hands.  “Oh, how good of you!” says she.  “What a blessing I came here!  Fancy getting rid of Uncle George and getting back to Oakdean all in one stroke!” Suddenly she looks round at him; there is almost terror in her gaze.  “You are sure you mean it?” says she.

“I mean it.  But, Tita,”—­he takes one of her hands and holds it between his own, and regards her with some anxiety—­“have you thought it all out?  I have told you the truth, you know.  I have told you that I am not in love with you.”

“In love with me!  I’m sure I hope not,” says Tita with a disgusted air.  “Don’t put yourself out about that.  I should hate you if you were in love with me.  Fancy a person following me about always, and saying silly things to me, and perhaps wanting to kiss me!  You,” anxiously looking at him with searching eyes, “you wouldn’t want to kiss me, would you?”

She looks so pretty as she puts this startling question, that Rylton loses himself a little.

“I don’t know.”

“Then you had better know, and at once," says Miss Bolton, with decision.

The whole affair seems to be trembling in the balance.  A sense of amusement has most unfortunately seized on Rylton, and is shaking him to his very heart’s core.  To marry a girl who even objected to a kiss!  It sounds like a French play.  He subdues his untimely mirth by an effort, and says gravely, “How can I promise you that I shall never want to kiss you?  I may grow very fond of you in time, and you—­but, of course, that is far more improbable—­may grow fond of me.”