“It is I who must tell you that,” said John, firmly. “I have a great deal to tell you--a great deal to explain to my mother as well as you. But this comes first of all--I love Kate. I saved her, you know; and then it seemed so natural that she should be mine. How could she have taken any one else than me who would have died for her? And see, father, she has consented,” said the poor fellow, taking Kate’s hand, and holding it in both his. His eyes were full of tears, and there was a smile on his face. It was that mingling of pathos and of triumph which marks passion at the highest strain. “God bless my soul!” said Dr Mitford again, and this time he rose to his feet in his amazement. “My dear, if you heard this was going on, why did not you tell me? Consented! why, she is a mere child, and her father trusted her to us. Miss Kate, you must perceive he is talking nonsense--you must have turned his head. This can’t go any further. The boy must be mad to think of such a thing.” “Then I am mad too,” said Kate, softly. “Oh, please, do not be angry with us--we could not help it. Oh, Mrs Mitford, say a word for John!” And then there came a strange pause. The mother said nothing. She stood in the shade holding back, insensible, as it seemed, to this appeal; and on the other side of the table were the young pair, holding each other fast. As for Dr Mitford, he came to himself slowly as Kate spoke. A ray of intelligence passed over his face. He was a sensible man, and not one to throw away the good the gods provided. Gradually it became apparent to him that there are times when youthful folly brings about results such as mature wisdom could scarcely have conceived possible. From the first stupefaction his look brightened into surprise, then into interest and half-disguised approval. He drew a long breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was wonderfully changed. “Then you must be more to blame than he is, my dear young lady, for you have not the same temptation,” he said, with a little flurry and excitement, but not much apparent displeasure. And then he made a pause, and looked at them with his brow contracted as if they were a book. “I don’t understand all this. Do you mean to tell me you are engaged, and it is not three weeks yet----” “It did not want three weeks,” said John, “nor three days. Father, you see it is done now; she has consented, and she ought to know best.” “I am utterly bewildered,” said Dr Mitford, but his tone softened more and more. “My dear, have you nothing to say to this? is it as unexpected to you as it is to me? Miss Kate, you understand it is no reluctance to receive you that overwhelms me, but the surprise--and---- My dear, is it possible you have nothing to say?”