“Nay, my love; but you should not misunderstand me,” she said, stopping and facing him on the path in which they were walking.  “I suppose I ought to protest, according to the common rules, that I would rather wait.  Young ladies are expected to say so.  If you were pressing me to marry at once, I should say so, no doubt.  But now, as it is, I will be more honest.  I have only one wish in the world, and that is, to be your wife,—­to be able to share everything with you.  The sooner we can be together the better it will be,—­at any rate, for me.  There; will that satisfy you?”

“My own, own Lily!”

“Yes, your own Lily.  You shall have no cause to doubt me, dearest.  But I do not expect that I am to have everything exactly as I want it.  I say again, that I shall not be unhappy in waiting.  How can I be unhappy while I feel certain of your love?  I was disappointed just now when you said that you were going so soon; and I am afraid I showed it.  But those little things are more unendurable than the big things.”

“Yes; that’s very true.”

“But there are three more days, and I mean to enjoy them so much!  And then you will write to me:  and you will come at Christmas.  And next year, when you have your holiday, you will come down to us again; will you not?”

“You may be quite sure of that.”

“And so the time will go by till it suits you to come and take me.  I shall not be unhappy.”

“I, at any rate, shall be impatient.”

“Ah, men always are impatient.  It is one of their privileges, I suppose.  And I don’t think that a man ever has the same positive and complete satisfaction in knowing that he is loved, which a girl feels.  You are my bird that I have shot with my own gun; and the assurance of my success is sufficient for my happiness.”

“You have bowled me over, and know that I can’t get up again.”

“I don’t know about can’t.  I would let you up quick enough, if you wished it.”

How he made his loving assurance that he did not wish it, never would or could wish it, the reader will readily understand.  And then he considered that he might as well leave all those money questions as they now stood.  His real object had been to convince her that their joint circumstances did not admit of an immediate marriage; and as to that she completely understood him.  Perhaps, during the next three days, some opportunity might arise for explaining the whole matter to Mrs Dale.  At any rate, he had declared his own purpose honestly, and no one could complain of him.

On the following day they all rode over to Guestwick together,—­the all consisting of the two girls, with Bernard and Crosbie.  Their object was to pay two visits,—­one to their very noble and highly exalted ally, the Lady Julia De Guest; and the other to their humbler and better known friend, Mrs Eames.  As Guestwick Manor lay on their road into the town, they performed the grander ceremony