"Well,--yes," he answered. "We are in for it now, both of us;--are we not? I hope you have no misgivings about it, Clara." "Who? I? I have misgivings! No, indeed. I have no misgivings, Frederic; no doubts, no scruples, no alloy in my happiness. With me it is all as I would have it be. Ah; you haven't understood why it has been that I have seemed to be harsh to you when we have met." "No, I have not," said he. This was true; but it is true also that it would have been well that he should be kept in his ignorance. She was minded, however, to tell him everything, and therefore she went on. "I don't know how to tell you; and yet, circumstanced as we are now, it seems that I ought to tell you everything." "Yes, certainly; I think that," said Aylmer. He was one of those men who consider themselves entitled to see, hear, and know every little detail of a woman's conduct, as a consequence of the circumstances of his engagement, and who consider themselves shorn of their privilege if anything be kept back. If any gentleman had said a soft word to Clara eight years ago, that soft word ought to be repeated to him now. I am afraid that these particular gentlemen sometimes hear some fibs; and I often wonder that their own early passages in the tournays of love do not warn them that it must be so. When James has sat deliciously through all the moonlit night with his arm round Mary's waist, and afterwards sees Mary led to the altar by John, does it not occur to him that some John may have also sat with his arm round Anna's waist,--that Anna whom he is leading to the altar? These things should not be inquired into too curiously; but the curiosity of some men on such matters has no end. For the most part, women like telling,--only they do not choose to be pressed beyond their own modes of utterance. "I should like to know that I have your full confidence," said he. "You have got my full confidence," she replied. "I mean that you should tell me anything that there is to be told." "It was only this, that I had learned to love you before I thought that my love would be returned." "Oh;--was that it?" said Captain Aylmer, in a tone which seemed to imply something like disappointment. "Yes, Fred; that was it. And how could I, under such circumstances, trust myself to be gentle with you, or to look to you for assistance? How could I guess then all that I know now?" "Of course you couldn't." "And therefore I was driven to be harsh. My aunt used to speak to me about it." "I don't wonder at that, for she was very anxious that we should be married." Clara for a moment felt herself to be uncomfortable as she heard these words, half perceiving that they implied some instigation on the part of Mrs. Winterfield. Could it be that Captain Aylmer's offer had been made in obedience to a promise? "Did you know of her anxiety?" she asked.