“Ernest,” said Nelly quickly, “I wish you would go. If you don’t, I feel sure we shall quarrel, and I would rather not quarrel,” cried the girl, with tears in her eyes. “Please go away.” “Why, Nelly? you are out of temper----” “I am out of everything,” she cried, “out of heart, out of hope, out of----” “Not out of love?” he said, drawing her hand through his arm. He, at least, was not out of love. And Nelly cried, but let him soothe her. Was not she his, bound to him for ever and ever? Was it not hers to forgive, to tolerate, to endure all things? If he seemed to think amiss would not that mend? All this went through Nelly’s heart as her brief hot passion of tears relieved the irritation in her soul; but still the irritation was there. CHAPTER XXVI. A PROPOSAL. Innocent walked in unsuspectingly through the great open window in the drawing-room, which looked dusky and dim after the sunshine. The flowers peeped through the glass doors of the conservatory, and her own image in the great glass over the mantelpiece seemed to confront her as she came in. Mrs. Eastwood rose from the sofa, close to the window, where she had been sitting beside Sir Alexis. She took Innocent’s hand. The other hand still embraced the history book, which she was holding close to her breast. Mrs. Eastwood looked into the girl’s face tenderly, with an anxious gaze, to which Innocent gave no response. “I wonder if she will understand?” she said, turning to Longueville, who had risen from the sofa. “I think I can make her understand,” he said. And then Mrs. Eastwood put her arm round the girl and kissed her. Innocent had ceased to be surprised and impatient of the kindness by which she was surrounded. Though she still took little part in the life of the family, it began to seem natural to her that people should feel, and that they should talk, and laugh, and cry, and conduct themselves as it once seemed so strange for them to do. She was not surprised now at any “fuss” that was made. She accepted it quietly, taking little part in it. But for the moment this scene did indeed appear like a dream; the unexpected kiss, the words to which she attached no definite meaning, the something evidently connected with herself, which they settled before her eyes; even the air of the room seemed full of a certain whispering curiosity, interest, and suspense. Innocent felt that something was about to happen, without knowing how. Was she to be sent away? Had something occurred that involved her fate? She looked, no longer quite passive, with a little tremulous wonder and doubt from one to the other. Then Mrs. Eastwood, who had been holding her hand, kissed her again, and there were tears in her eyes.