‘And now it’s your own.’

’Yes; now it’s my own and all my respect for it is gone.  I used to think the Creevy the best river in England for fish; but I wouldn’t give a sixpence now for all the perch I ever caught in it.’

‘Perhaps your taste for perch is gone also.’

’Yes; and my taste for jam.  I never believed in the store-room at Aylmer Park as I did in my aunt’s store-room here.’

‘I don’t doubt but what it is full now.’

’I dare say; but I shall never have the curiosity even to inquire.  Ah, dear I wish I knew what to do about the house.’

‘You won’t sell it, I suppose?’

’Not if I could either live in it, or let it.  It would be wrong to let it stand idle.’

‘But you need not decide quite at once.’

‘That’s just what I want to do.  I want to decide at once.’

’Then I’m sure I cannot advise you.  It seems to me very unlikely that you should come and live here by yourself.  It isn’t like a country-house exactly.’

’I shan’t live there by myself certainly.  You heard what Mrs Partridge said just now.’

‘What did Mrs Partridge say?’

’She wanted to know whether it belonged to both of us, and whether it was not all one.  Shall it be all one, Clara?’

She was leaning over the rail of the bridge as he spoke, with her eyes fixed on the slowly moving water.  When she heard his words she raised her face and looked full upon him.  She was in some sort prepared for the moment, though it would be untrue to say that she had now expected it.  Unconsciously she had made some resolve that if ever the question were put to her by him, she would not be taken altogether off her guard; and now that the question was put to her, she was able to maintain her composure.  Her first feeling was one of triumph as it must be in such a position to any woman who has already acknowledged to herself that she loves the man who then asks her to be his wife.  She looked up into Captain Aylmer’s face and his eye almost quailed beneath hers.  Even should he be triumphant, he was not perfectly assured that his triumph would be a success.

‘Shall what be all one?’ she asked.

’Shall it be in your house and my house?  Can you tell me that you will love me and be my wife?’ Again she looked at him, and he repeated his question.  ’Clara, can you love me well enough to take me for your husband?’

‘I can,’ she said.  Why should she hesitate, and play the coy girl, and pretend to any doubts in her mind which did not exist there?  She did love him, and had so told herself with much earnestness.  To him, while his words had been doubtful while he had simply played at making love to her, she had given no hint of the state of her affections.  She had so carried herself before him as to make him doubt whether success could be possible for him.  But now why should she hesitate now?  It was as she had hoped or as she bad hardly dared to hope.  He did love her.  ‘I can,’ she said; and then, before he could speak again, she repeated her words with more emphasis.  ‘Indeed I can; with all my heart.’