He laid his hand on hers—it was not withdrawn,—and continued: “’Twas not inconstancy indeed—I durst swear it. ’Twas trifling of the lightest, yet had its use, for it taught me that I was but a captive sporting at the end of my chain. Your fair hand holds it, and your heart is my prison. Never will I seek for freedom. Can the loveliest of charmers, the most desirable of women make me a return?” She did not look up. In a voice sweet as honey, she whispered: “Indeed I have waited for this moment, my Lord.” He had her hand now in a firmer clasp. They were as solitary as in a wood though the company passed their bower, as they came and went. “Then may I believe that this dear hand is mine? That my beloved will give me the day and make me the happiest of men?” “You would have me marry you?” says she, raising her eyes to his. Even then her tone might have warned him, but he rushed on his fate. “I would have it beyond everything in the world. I desire it with all my heart and soul, and now that your radiant eyes, your melting mouth give consent, at last I kiss this soft hand and claim it for my own—my beloved Lady Baltimore’s.” My Lord was a finished wooer. His tone might have melted marble. It did not however melt my Lady Fanny. Her moment was come. While he spoke she had weighed her heart in the balance, had tasted every emotion he roused in her, and (to pursue her own comparison of the man fallen from his horse who knows not whether he is alive or dead) she knew now once for all that this gentleman was of no mighty concern to her, and that she lived and need fear his power no more. In short, that her heart was whole and at her own disposal. She disengaged her hand with such infinite delicacy that the action appeared a caress, and entrenched it in her own lap. “My Lord, you have spoken. Hear me in turn. I refuse your offer. No—’tis no coyness that asks to be conquered. You shall know my reason. Awhile ago you courted me. That cannot be denied. Yourself owns it. I, in my turn, own that I think you might then have won me, had you cared. ’Tis so long ago now that I remember not how much my heart was yours, but you certainly had an interest in it. Then—you left me. Do you think in this town of tattle I didn’t know it! Do you think your sudden silence and aversion passed unnoticed? You exposed me to the laughter and comment of the world. You——” He tried to check her eloquence. “My beloved, don’t I now make rich amends? Won’t all the world see the one sovereign of my heart? What more is in my power?” She never heeded him.