“Yes, forced to do so.” (He could not tell her of the reason which had been Waring’s sole alternative.) “He said we had only a short time to put in, that it would make him look such an awful fool, that he had taken the reins to please me, and now I must sit tight to oblige _him_. In fact--to tell you a secret--that he would be in dreadful financial difficulties. All he wanted was _time_. If his creditors believed him to be a poor man, they would be down on him like a flock of kites. Two or three months would set him straight. So I yielded. But I made one stipulation; I said I must tell the truth to one person.” “And that highly honoured person?” she asked, with arched brows. “Was yourself.” “Oh, monsieur, _c’en est trop_!” And she made him a deep inclination. “Don’t jeer at me, please,” he exclaimed, in a low, sharp voice. “Once I was about to speak, and I was interrupted by the panther. Afterwards that intolerable child took the words out of my mouth, and you scorned them. For once in her life she told you the truth, the whole truth--I do love you.” There was no tremble or hesitation about these four syllables, but there was considerable amount of trembling about the hand which held a certain white feather fan, resting on the railings. The fan, unaccustomed to such uncertain treatment, slid swiftly away, and fell like a dead white bird into a lily bed below. No one sought it; seconds and sensations were priceless. “I do love you, better than my own life; but I was afraid to speak, you were so down on money.” How could he guess at the nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles of certain busy old ladies near Hoyle, who had more than hinted at a speedy wedding and a rich husband, as the result of a trip to India? How could he know of blazing eyes and scarlet cheeks, and of a passionate repudiation of, if not India, at any rate a handsome future partner, and money? “I meant to have told you to-night, on my honour I did; but with my usual cruel bad luck, that little beggar cut in before me. And you are dead against me, and with some reason, I confess; but you must not say that you will never speak to me again. Come, Miss Gordon, give me another chance.” As she remained obdurately dumb, he continued with an air of quiet determination, “You will give me an answer by the time I have fetched your fan?”