“Upon my soul this is the most extraordinary proceeding——!”

“Pray hear me out, Mr. Sherwin:  you will not condemn my conduct, I think, if you hear all I have to say.”

He muttered something unintelligible; his complexion turned yellower; he dropped my card, which he had by this time crushed into fragments; and ran his hand rapidly through his hair until he had stretched it out like a penthouse over his forehead—­blinking all the time, and regarding me with a lowering, sinister expression of countenance.  I saw that it was useless to treat him as I should have treated a gentleman.  He had evidently put the meanest and the foulest construction upon my delicacy and hesitation in speaking to him:  so I altered my plan, and came to the point abruptly—­“came to business,” as he would have called it.

“I ought to have been plainer, Mr. Sherwin; I ought perhaps to have told you at the outset, in so many words, that I came to—­” (I was about to say, “to ask your daughter’s hand in marriage;” but a thought of my father moved darkly over my mind at that moment, and the words would not pass my lips).

“Well, Sir! to what?”

The tone in which he said this was harsh enough to rouse me.  It gave me back my self-possession immediately.

“To ask your permission to pay my addresses to Miss Sherwin—­or, to be plainer still, if you like, to ask of you her hand in marriage.”

The words were spoken.  Even if I could have done so, I would not have recalled what I had just said; but still, I trembled in spite of myself as I expressed in plain, blunt words what I had only rapturously thought over, or delicately hinted at to Margaret, up to this time.

“God bless me!” cried Mr. Sherwin, suddenly sitting back bolt upright in his chair, and staring at me in such surprise, that his restless features were actually struck with immobility for the moment—­“God bless me, this is quite another story.  Most gratifying, most astonishing—­highly flattered I am sure; highly indeed, my dear Sir!  Don’t suppose, for one moment, I ever doubted your honourable feeling.  Young gentlemen in your station of life do sometimes fail in respect towards the wives and daughters of their—­in short, of those who are not in their rank exactly.  But that’s not the question—­quite a misunderstanding—­extremely stupid of me, to be sure. Pray let me offer you a glass of wine!”

“No wine, thank you, Mr. Sherwin.  I must beg your attention a little longer, while I state to you, in confidence, how I am situated with regard to the proposals I have made.  There are certain circumstances—­”

“Yes—­yes?”

He bent forward again eagerly towards me, as he spoke; looking more inquisitive and more cunning than ever.