“That’s because your modesty holds over your beauty.  But I see where it is.  It’s in your eyes, that’s like two stars of the night; in your forehead, that looks full of intellect and sense; in your rosy cheeks and smiling lips; in your pretty little hands and feet——­” Here she suddenly rolled up her hands in her frilled white apron, and, sitting up straight, drew her feet under her gown.  At this performance, they both laughed loud and long, and Maud’s nerves were relieved.

“What geese we are,” she said at last.  “You know I don’t believe a word you say.”

“Oh, yes, you do.  You’ve got eyes and a looking-glass.  Come now, be honest.  You know you never saw a girl as pretty as yourself, and you never saw a man that didn’t love you on sight.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Don’t all the men you know love you?”

“There is one man I know hates me, and I hate him.”

“Who is it?  This is very interesting.”

Maud was suddenly seized with a desire to tell an adventure, something that might match Offitt’s tales of wonder.

“You’ll never tell?”

“Hope I may die.”

“It’s Arthur Farnham!” She had succeeded in her purpose, for Offitt stared at her with looks of amazement.  “He once wanted to be rather too attentive to me, and I did not like it.  So he hates me, and has tried to injure me.”

“And you don’t like him very well?”

“I don’t.  I would owe a good deal to the man who would give him a beating.”

“All right.  You give me—­what?—­a kiss, or a lock of your hair, and he shall have his thrashing.”

“You do it and bring me the proofs, and we will talk about it.”

“Well, I must be off,” he said, picking tip his hat.  He saw on her face a slight disappointment.  He put out his hand to take leave.  She folded her arms.

“You needn’t be in such a hurry,” she said, poutingly.  “Mother won’t be back for ever so long, and I was half asleep over my book when you came in.”

“Oh, very well,” he said.  “That suits me.”  He walked deliberately across the room, picked up a chair, and seated himself very near to Maud.  She felt her heart beat with something like terror, and regretted asking him to stay.  He had been very agreeable, but she was sure he was going to be disagreeable now.  She was afraid that if he grew disagreeable she could not manage him as she could the others.  Her worst fears were realized with his first words.

“Miss Matchin, if you ask me to stay longer, you must take the consequences.  I am going to say to you what I never said to mortal woman before:  I love you, and I want you for my wife.”

She tried to laugh.  “Oh, you do?” but her face grew pale, and her hands trembled.

“Yes, I do; and I am going to have you, too.”

He tried to speak lightly, but his voice broke in spite of him.

“Oh, indeed!” she replied, recovering herself with an effort.  “Perhaps I’ll have something to say about that, Mr. Confidence.”