He took both her hands in his, and drawing her to him, kissed her fervently. But at the same moment he breathed so deep a sigh that Florence, as soon as she was released, stole away in the dark to her own room, trembling with some inexplicable fear. What could it mean? What was this cloud that not even the assurance of her love had banished from his brow? CHAPTER XX. NOT QUITE HAPPY. Mrs. Blunden looked volumes at the heavy eyes with which her niece appeared at the breakfast table on the following morning; nor did the tender solicitude of Mr. Aylwinne’s manner, as he rose to give Florence a chair, and hovered about her till rewarded with a blush and smile, escape her notice. She had scarcely patience to sit still till the meal was ended; and as soon as she had found a pretext for getting rid of Mrs. Wilson and the boys, she began to query sharply: “What’s all this, Mr. Aylwinne--Florence--what’s all this?” In much confusion Florence played with her teaspoon without any attempt to reply; but her lover’s answer was prompt and decided: “It means, Aunt Margaret, that I have asked and obtained a boon, subject, of course, to your approval. Will you give me your Florence?” Mrs. Blunden smiled quizzically. “You are very polite, certainly; but, judging by what I know of my niece, she will follow her own inclinations, whether I say a yea or a nay to them. There, you needn’t redden and pretend to contradict me, child. You have the Heriton temper, like my poor brother, whom it led into all sorts of follies.” “Shall you consider your niece’s acceptance of my hand in a similar light?” Mr. Aylwinne gravely inquired, while Florence’s annoyance at her aunt’s blunt speech ended in a smile at the retort it provoked. “Certainly not,” Mrs. Blunden replied, with a gravity as great as his own, and much more real. “If I were not satisfied on the score of your worthiness to espouse her, I should have taken her away as soon as I had occasion to suspect your affection.” “And you see no reason to object to our immediate union, I hope?” Mr. Aylwinne observed, without appearing to see the embarrassment of his betrothed. Mrs. Blunden raised her eyebrows. “Why, this is being in a hurry with a vengeance! Pray, when did you put the momentous question to my niece? In the character of her guardian, I consider that I have a right to know this.” “Florence and I have understood each other since--last night,” he answered, with a little hesitation. “Last night! And propose to be married to-morrow?” cried Aunt Margaret sarcastically. “Surely, Florence, you are no party to this--well, I really must call it indecorous haste?” “My dear Mrs. Blunden,” said Mr. Aylwinne, interposing to prevent Florence’s reply, “if we are assured that we love each other, and may hope to spend our future together, what delay is required? Why oppose my wish to commence our new life as quickly as possible?”