"Hilda! How can you talk like that? You know what my feeling is for Miss Crane. I respect her and I like her sincerely, but I have given her no cause to think anything else. Hilda, you know it isn't true--you don't really mean it. You know that for me there is no other woman in the world but you! You must have guessed it long ago." "Guessed it? Dear me, no; how should I? I quite thought you were devoted to Miss Crane and she to you. Besides, you know it's very wrong of you to--to care for me. I am sure Mr. Barton would disapprove most highly if he knew." "What has he got to do with it?" "A very great deal, I imagine, seeing that if he likes he can revoke his will any day, and leave you without a penny." "Uncle Barton wouldn't be such, a beast!" "I'm not so sure about that. He has considerable capacity for being a beast. And you know how he dislikes me. But if you really do care, Gerald----" "Oh, Hilda, you know I do--you are everything to me. Tell me that you care for me a little--that you will be my wife." "Are you _quite, quite_ sure you mean what you are saying--that you really----" "A thousand times yes; I love you with my whole soul." "And you are quite willing to take the risk?" "Anything, everything--so long as I have you!" "Then I will confess--I do care for you, Gerald." She dropped her eyes, the very essence of humility. Her acting was beyond praise, and calculated to deceive a man very much less simple than Gerald Arkel. "Dearest!" He clasped her in his arms; "and you will be my wife?" "Don't, Gerald; you mustn't--besides, someone might see!" "Well, let them--I don't care!" "But I do." She released herself and sat down on the stile--the same by which Gerald had met Miriam for the first time. "Now do sit down, and do be sensible. You really must not behave like this. If I engage myself to you it must be on certain conditions." "Make any conditions you like, darling, so long as you say 'yes.'" "Very well, then, I make two. The first is that you are to keep our engagement an absolute secret until I give you leave to announce it. And the second is--well, the second is, you must be just the same before people." "Well, naturally--if I agree to the first I must agree to the second. But I confess, dear, I don't like this sort of thing. Besides, I can't see the necessity for it. You aren't ashamed of me I hope?" "Oh, Gerald, you dear goose--what nonsense! Haven't I told you that Uncle B. will make an awful fuss about it? That of itself should be enough for you. He is quite capable of altering his will." "And in that case you wouldn't marry me, I suppose?" "Indeed, yes; but I should hate to think that I had spoilt your chance--that I had been the cause of your losing five thousand a year. You must allow that what I say is common-sense."