“You can!” His voice was sharp and combative. “In love with an angel. I may tell you that she really is a fellow-creature! You think she likes you, but for one solid year and a half you may not impart to her who you are, or where you come from, or even your name--I mean your surname. You are at liberty to inform her that you are ‘Owen St. John Willoughby FitzGibbon’--a nice long string!--but must never breathe the magic word ‘Wynyard.’” “No, you know I can’t,” he answered irritably. “You are her aunts’ servant now, though you will be, if you live, Sir Owen Wynyard of Wynyard; but you may not give her the faintest hint, as you must stick to your bargain with Uncle Dick and he to his with you. Now, let me consider,” and she held up a finger: “if you speak, and reveal your identity, and become engaged, you lose a fortune.” “Yes,” he agreed, a trifle dryly. “If you don’t speak, you run a great chance of losing the young lady! Mr. Woolcock is on the spot, and as willing as Barkis. Westmere is close by--an ever-enticing temptation--and he has the goodwill of the girl’s relations.” “Yes, that’s a true bill; it’s wonderful how you grasp things.” “What grounds have you for supposing the girl would wait for eighteen months in absolute ignorance of who you were? Have you ever spoken to her, as her equal?” “Yes, once,” and he described their walk two days previously. “I stated a similar case; I made the most of my time, and asked her what _she_ would do under such circumstances.” “My dear Owen,”--and she looked at him with an expression of wonder in her eyes--“I am simply staggered at your presumption!” “Yes, so was I; but, you see, it was my only chance, and I snatched it.” “And what did she answer. That it was evident you were an uncertified lunatic!” “No; she said ‘Perhaps.’” “‘Je m’en vais, chercher un grand peut-être,’ as some one said on his death-bed.” “Don’t talk French--or of death-beds, Sis.” “No, I won’t. I see that your divinity is a clever, modern young woman, who refuses to commit herself. Look here, Owen, I won’t tease you any more; this situation is such that it even baffles the activity of _my_ clever and contriving mind! I’m afraid I can do nothing at present; but when we return from America, I shall make a point of cultivating General and Mrs. Morven, on account of the girl. I’ll cultivate the girl for your sake, and ask her to stay in Mount Street. Possibly she may open her heart to me, and tell me everything! I have a wonderful knack of extracting similar confidences even from my housemaids! I shall listen sympathetically, advise sagaciously, and urge her to stick to you!” “Yes, I know that once you take a thing in hand, Sis, it goes like an express train; but you will be away for six months--six months is a long time.” “Time!”--springing to her feet--“and talking of time, I must be off. Ring the bell, my dear boy, and order the car at once.” * * * * *