"I've done all I could to get up this party on purpose that we might have you here." "Nonsense." "But I have. I have cared about it just because it would enable me to say one word to you;--and now I'm afraid to say it." She was sitting there close to him, and she couldn't go away. She couldn't run as she had done from the stile. She couldn't show any feeling of offence before all those who were around her; and yet,--was it not her duty to do something to stop him? "Pray don't say such things," she whispered. "I tell you that I'm afraid to say it. Here; give me some wine. You'll take some more. No? Well; shall we go? I am afraid to say it." They were now out in the hall, standing idly there, with their backs to another door. "I wonder what answer you would make me!" "We had better go up-stairs. Indeed we had." "Stop a moment, Miss Ray. Why is it that you are so unwilling even to stay a moment with me?" "I'm not unwilling. Only we had better go now." "Do you remember when I held your arm at the stile?" "No; I don't remember anything about it. You ought not to have done it. Do you know, I think you are very cruel." As she made the accusation, she looked down upon the floor, and spoke in a low, trembling voice that almost convinced him that she was in earnest. "Cruel!" said he. "That's hard too." "Or you wouldn't prevent me enjoying myself while I am here, by saying things which you ought to know I don't like." "I have hardly thought whether you would like what I say or not; but I know this; I would give anything in the world to make myself sure that you would ever look back upon this evening as a happy one." "I will if you'll come up-stairs, and--" "And what?" "And go on without,--without seeming to mind me so much."