"No, my dear Miss Luttrell," he said, "nothing is wrong; but at my time of life, when a man has anything particular to say, he weighs it well-- he brings a good deal of thought to bear. I was trying to do this now." "But mamma is out too," said Millicent. "Yes, I know," he replied, "and therefore I came on to speak to you." "Sir Gordon!" "My dear Miss Luttrell--there, I have known you so long that I may call you my dear child--I think you believe in me?" "Believe in you, Sir Gordon?" "Yes, that I have the instincts, I hope, of a gentleman; that I am your father's very good friend; and that I reverence his child." "Oh yes, Sir Gordon," said Millicent, placing her hand in his, as he extended it towards her. "That is well, then," he said; and there was another pause, during which he gazed thoughtfully at the hand he held for a few moments, and then raised it to his lips and allowed it afterwards to glide away. Millicent flushed slightly, for, in spite of herself, the thought of her visitor's object began to dawn upon her, though she refused to believe it at first. "Let me see," he said at last, "time slides away so fast. You must be three-and-twenty now." "I thought a lady's age was a secret, Sir Gordon," said Millicent smiling. "To weak, vain women, yes, my child; but your mind is too clear and candid for such subterfuges as that. Twenty-three! Compared with that, I am quite an old man." Millicent's colour began to deepen, but she made a brave effort to be calm, mastered her emotion, and sat listening to the strange wooing that had commenced. "I am going to speak very plainly," her visitor said, gazing wistfully in her eyes, "and to tell you, Millicent, that for the past five years I have been your humble suitor." "Sir Gordon!" "Hush! hush! On the strength of our old friendship hear me out, my child. I will not say a word that shall wilfully give you pain; I only ask for a hearing." Millicent sank back in her chair, clasped her hands, and let them rest in her lap, for she was too agitated to speak. The events of an hour or two before had unhinged her. "For five years I have been nursing this idea in my breast," he continued, "one day determining to speak, and then telling myself that I was weak and foolish, that the thing was impossible; and then, as you know, I have gone away for months together in my yacht. I will tell you what I have said to myself: `You are getting well on in life; she is young and beautiful. The match would not be right. Some day she will form an attachment for some man suited to her. Take your pleasure in seeing the woman you love happier than you could ever make her.'" This was a revelation to Millicent, whose lips parted, and whose troubled eyes were fixed upon the speaker.