“Oh, Donovan,” she cried, for she never called him “Downy.” “I have heard that your mother is very ill, and they are quite alarmed about her. Sarah came in such a hurry for some bottle of my father’s; but I was afraid to let her have it, for they have no idea how to use it. Don’t you think you had better run for Doctor Yallop? They won’t let me in to ask them, and I am afraid to go for him without orders.” “No, Kitty, no. It is nothing more than usual. She would never see the doctor, if he came; and it would only set her off again. Frizzy knows best how to manage her. She has been in a great wax, even for her; and she is just a bit frightened, as she ought to be. It will do her a world of good, when she comes round, and teach her to take things easier. But you look quite startled, my dear child. Give me a kiss, and I will tell you all about it.” Kitty obeyed, though with some reluctance. One of her many charms was obedience, and she had often been told in the early days, that as they were now one family, to exchange the friendly salute was proper. But lately she had been surprised that Downy, after long indifference to its value, had returned to this form of expressing esteem. The young man had meant to defer for a while a declaration which must be unwelcome at first. But he felt sure now that the first thing his mother would do, as soon as she was well enough, would be to fall on the poor maiden about it, and put it in the most outrageous way. Much better for his cause that he should speak of it himself, and win perhaps some credit for his defiance of Kitty’s natural foe. He was always bold in word and deed, and now he spoke with as little fear as grace. “You must have seen, my dear, that lately I have been growing very fond of you. You have seen that I always take your part when people go to bully you. And why do you suppose I do it? Why, because I am so fond of you.” “Thank you, Donovan. I have often thanked you in my mind, though not in words. Placed as we are, it is quite right that we should be fond of one another.” “Oh, I don’t mean that sort of thing at all. My mother married your Governor; but that would only make it natural that we should hate one another. And there is no love lost between you and Frizzy, or Jerry either, so far as that goes. What I mean is that I am fond of you, as—as a fellow is of his sweetheart. And I mean to marry you, indeed I do, as soon—why, as soon as you like almost.” Poor Kitty looked at him, as if he must be joking; or if it were not that, he must have taken too much wine, as he did sometimes, especially when he had been much with Sir Cumberleigh.