He had actually worked himself into a passion.
“You are wrong,” I replied gravely. “The objections are insurmountable. I can never marry you; but I do care for you, and I can promise you one thing—that I will never, never marry any one else——”
“But me—” (seizing my hand before I was aware). “Then, you will promise that, on your word of honor?”
“Yes; I will never marry any one—but you.”
“When your mother asks me to be her daughter-in-law,” I whispered.
His face fell, and he hastily released me, as at this moment, without knock or cough, the door was flung open, and Miss Skuce burst into the room, with a newspaper in her hand.
“Oh, _how_ do you do, Mr. Somers? I had no idea you were here. Don’t you remember me? I’m Miss Skuce—Dr. Skuce’s sister; he attends the Abbey servants, you know.”
Mr. Somers—who looked very black indeed—merely bowed. Was Miss Skuce abashed? No, not a whit; though even she must have seen that she was greatly _de trop_.
“So sorry to hear that Miss Chalgrove has met with an accident in the hunting-field. I saw it in the paper. How anxious _you_ must be. I trust it’s not serious.”
“No, I believe not”—surveying her with cold curiosity.
“Well, it said that the horse fell on her”—sitting down, and apparently anxious to thresh out the subject at her leisure.
“Miss Hayes,” he said, turning to me, “I shall hope to see you again before you leave.”
He hesitated, reluctant to depart: he had so much to say to me! Then he shook hands, and, with an extremely cool bow to my visitor, walked out of the room. As the door closed after him, she jumped to her feet and cried—
“I saw him coming in. He has been here fully twenty minutes! It’s not at all _comme il faut_ to be receiving men. I knew you would be dreadfully uncomfortable, and so I trotted over. He had no business to call on you. He is a most overbearing-looking young man, and I can’t abide him! He always seems as if he didn’t _see_ me. What brought him? What did he want—eh?”
Oh, this woman—with her pitiless curiosity, her keen little questioning eyes, coming just after my late most trying interview—was quite insupportable! I could have stood up and screamed. I was overwrought, fagged, heartsore. I had had nothing to eat all day but a cup of tea and a slice of toast, for Lady Hildegarde’s pro-luncheon visit had effectually destroyed my appetite for my humble meal.