He had played the bachelor thus far, and he hoped it was according to the fact; at least, no one had questioned it, to his knowledge. But, this afternoon, he thought he had detected some such purpose in Miss Stirling's manner--a faint doubting. He had led quickly away, and she had made no attempt to return to it. Possibly, he had been mistaken--it might well be that he was. But, at all events, the question confronted him, and doubtless would have to be answered, sometime. He was---- "Is anything the matter with the chicken, Sir Edward!" The last words caught his ears. "I beg your pardon, Miss Marbury," he said; "did you ask me a question?" "I asked whether anything was the matter with the chicken?" she replied; "you have been frowning at your plate, for at least a minute--or is it the ham?" "Was I frowning?" he laughed; "well, rest assured it was not at either the chicken or the ham--they are delicious. I suppose it is very impolite, but my thoughts had gone back to England and----" he made an expressive gesture. "Amid the most delightful surroundings, home will suddenly obtrude. I promise not to offend again." "'Twas a grievous offense," she smiled,--"particularly for a traveller--an omen that we shall soon lose you. _N'est ce pas_, monsieur?" "It is not, assuredly not. I have no thought of departing. On the contrary, I have but begun to enjoy my stay. I may become a Marylander, yet, who knows?" The smile rippled into a laugh. "You flatter us too much, Sir Edward--oh! too much!" "I flatter not at all--I mean it." "Is this a sudden notion--I thought you travelled for your pleasure?" "And so I do--solely, for my pleasure. Perchance, my pleasure is to remain--I do not know." She refused to take him seriously. "Have you advised your friends in England of this new idea?" He shook his head. "You are the first to know it." "Because the idea was, this moment, born?" "You do not believe me." "You do not believe, yourself." "But you would receive me?" "Assuredly, we would receive you--we would do more, we would welcome you." "Then I warn you that I may remain." "What nonsense!" she exclaimed. "A London gentleman come here to live--settle down to the humdrum life of a Colonist!" "There may be compensations." "What compensations?" "Leading a quiet existence, for one thing." "No need to cross the Atlantic for that," she said. "You can lead a quiet existence on your country estate--stay away from London." "The social life is very charming," he continued. "Granted--for Maryland, but only a miniature of the life you have at home." "And your women," he went on, "your women are fascinating." "Some men are so gallant!" "_Peste!_" he said, "you will not be convinced--not even that I should have a good excuse for staying." "No good excuse, _in comparison_, with what you would be losing--and" (very sweetly) "I take you to be a gentleman of excellent judgment."