’A little later and he had vanished.  Carinthia Kirby may already be written Countess of Fleetwood!  His hand was offered and hers demanded in plain terms.  Her brother would not be so astounded if he had seen the brilliant creature she was—­is, I could say; for when she left me here, to go to her bed, she still wore the “afterglow.”  She tripped over to me in the ball-room to tell me.  I might doubt, she had no doubt whatever.  I fancied he had subjected her to some degree of trifling.  He was in a mood.  His moods are known to me.  But no, he was precise; her report of him strikes the ear as credible, in spite of the marvel it insists on our swallowing.

“’Lord Fleetwood had asked me to marry him.”  Neither assurance nor bashfulness; newspaper print; aid an undoubting air of contentment.

’Imagine me hearing it.

’"To be his wife?”

’"He said wife.”

’"And you replied?”

’"I—­said I would.”

’"Tell me all?”

’"He said we were plighted.”

’Now, “wife” is one of the words he abhors; and he loathes the hearing of a girl as “engaged.”  However, “plighted” carried a likeness.

’I pressed her:  “My dear Carinthia, you thought him in earnest?”

’"He was.”

’"How do you judge?”

’"By his look when he spoke.”

’"Not by his words?”

“’I repeat them to you.”

’She has repeated them to me here in my bedroom.  There is no variation.  She remembers every syllable.  He went so far as to urge her to say whether she would as willingly utter consent if they were in a church and a clergyman at the altar-rails.

’That was like him.

’She made answer:  “Wherever it may be, I am bound, if I say yes.”

’She then adds:  “He told me he joined hands with me.”

’"Did he repeat the word ’wife’?”

’"He said it twice.”

’I transcribe verbatim scrupulously.  There cannot be an error, Chillon.  It seems to show, that he has embraced the serious meaning of the word—­or seriously embraced the meaning, reads’ better.  I have seen his lips form “wife.”

’But why wonder so staringly?  They both love the mountains.  Both are wildish.  She was looking superb.  And he had seen her do a daring thing on the rocks on the heights in the early morning, when she was out by herself, unaware of a spectator, he not knowing who she was;—­the Fates had arranged it so.  That was why he took to her so rapidly.  So he told her.  She likes being admired.  The preparation for the meeting does really seem “under direction.”  She likes him too, I do think.  Between her repetitions of his compliments, she praised his tone of voice, his features.  She is ready to have the fullest faith in the sincerity of his offer; speaks without any impatience for the fulfilment.  If it should happen, what a change in the fortunes of a girl—­of more than one, possibly.