“You meant to say that when you find yourself an inmate of my house, as a matter of course you could not ask your own friends to come and see you.  Was that gracious?”

“Whatever I may have meant to say, I did not say that.  Nor in truth did I mean it.  Pray don’t go on about it now.  These are to be our last days, you know, and we shouldn’t waste them by talking of things that are unpleasant.  After all poor Johnny Eames is nothing to me; nothing, nothing.  How can any one be anything to me when I think of you?”

But even this did not bring Crosbie back at once into a pleasant humour.  Had Lily yielded to him and confessed that he was right, he would have made himself at once as pleasant as the sun in May.  But this she had not done.  She had simply abstained from her argument because she did not choose to be vexed, and had declared her continued purpose of seeing Eames on his promised visit.  Crosbie would have had her acknowledge herself wrong, and would have delighted in the privilege of forgiving her.  But Lily Dale was one who did not greatly relish forgiveness, or any necessity of being forgiven.  So they rode on, if not in silence, without much joy in their conversation.  It was now late on the Monday afternoon, and Crosbie was to go early on the Wednesday morning.  What if these three last days should come to be marred with such terrible drawbacks as these!

Bernard Dale had not spoken a word to his cousin of his suit, since they had been interrupted by Crosbie and Lily as they were lying on the bank by the ha-ha.  He had danced with her again and again at Mrs Dale’s party, and had seemed to revert to his old modes of conversation without difficulty.  Bell, therefore, had believed the matter to be over, and was thankful to her cousin, declaring within her own bosom that the whole matter should be treated by her as though it had never happened.  To no one,—­not even to her mother, would she tell it.  To such reticence she bound herself for his sake, feeling that he would be best pleased that it should be so.  But now as they rode on together, far in advance of the other couple, he again returned to the subject.

“Bell,” said he, “am I to have any hope?”

“Any hope as to what, Bernard?”

“I hardly know whether a man is bound to take a single answer on such a subject.  But this I know, that if a man’s heart is concerned, he is not very willing to do so.”

“When that answer has been given honestly and truly—­”

“Oh, no doubt.  I don’t at all suppose that you were dishonest or false when you refused to allow me to speak to you.”

“But, Bernard, I did not refuse to allow you to speak to me.”

“Something very like it.  But, however, I have no doubt you were true enough.  But, Bell, why should it be so?  If you were in love with any one else I could understand it.”

“I am not in love with any one else.”

“Exactly.  And there are so many reasons why you and I should join our fortunes together.”