“It will only be for one day, Lily.  I shall come to dinner on Christmas Eve, and must go away the day after.”

“But you will come direct to our house!”

“If you can spare me a room.”

“Of course we can.  So we could now.  Only when you came, you know—­” Then she looked up into his face and smiled.

“When I came, I was the squire’s friend and your cousin’s rather than yours.  But that’s all changed now.”

“Yes; you’re my friend now,—­mine specially.  I’m to be now and always your own special, dearest friend;—­eh, Adolphus?” And thus she exacted from him the repetition of the promise which he had so often given her.

By this time they had passed through the grounds of the Great House and were in the fields.  “Lily,” said he, speaking rather suddenly, and making her feel by his manner that something of importance was to be said; “I want to say a few words to you about,—­business.”  And he gave a little laugh as he spoke the last word, making her fully understand that he was not quite at his ease.

“Of course I’ll listen.  And, Adolphus, pray don’t be afraid about me.  What I mean is, don’t think that I can’t bear cares and troubles.  I can bear anything as long as you love me.  I say that because I’m afraid I seemed to complain about your going.  I didn’t mean to.”

“I never thought you complained, dearest.  Nothing can be better than you are at all times and in every way.  A man would be very hard to please if you didn’t please him.”

“If I can only please you—­”

“You do please me in everything.  Dear Lily, I think I found an angel when I found you.  But now about this business.  Perhaps I’d better tell you everything.”

“Oh, yes, tell me everything.”

“But then you mustn’t misunderstand me.  And if I talk about money, you mustn’t suppose that it has anything to do with my love for you.”

“I wish for your sake that I wasn’t such a little pauper.”

“What I mean to say is this, that if I seem to be anxious about money, you must not suppose that that anxiety bears any reference whatever to my affection for you.  I should love you just the same, and look forward just as much to my happiness in marrying you, whether you were rich or poor.  You understand that?”

She did not quite understand him; but she merely pressed his arm, so as to encourage him to go on.  She presumed that he intended to tell her something as to their future mode of life,—­something which he supposed it might not be pleasant for her to hear, and she was determined to show him that she would receive it pleasantly.

“You know,” said he, “how anxious I have been that our marriage should not be delayed.  To me, of course, it must be everything now to call you my own as soon as possible.”  In answer to which little declaration of love, she merely pressed his arm again, the subject being one on which she had not herself much to say.