"Oh, what do the tea-things matter?" I replied. "Let them stay. Vernon, you oughtn't to have come here." "Oughtn't I? But I very well think I ought. Why shouldn't a man come to see the girl who has promised to marry him?" "Vernon, you know--you got my letter?" "I did certainly get a letter--an extraordinarily dear, sweet, pathetic little letter. Well, my dear, I have acted on it, that's all." "Acted on it, Vernon! What do you mean?" He put his hand into his pocket and took the letter out. "Come and sit close to me on the sofa, Heather." "No, no; I can't; I daren't!" "But you can and dare. Do you suppose I am going to stand this sort of thing? You are the girl I am going to marry. Heather, what nonsense you are talking! Kiss me this minute!" "Vernon, you know I daren't kiss you." "And I know you dare and shall and will. Come, this minute--this very minute." "Oh, Vernon! Oh, Vernon!" Before I could prevent him his arms were round me and his lips were pressed to mine. The moment I felt the touch of those lips I ceased to struggle against his will and lay passive in his arms. My heart quieted down, and a great peace, added to a wonderful joy, filled me. "Vernon, dear Vernon!" "Say 'darling Vernon'; that's better than dear." "Oh, well, if I must--darling Vernon!" "Say 'your very own Vernon,' whom you will marry." "Vernon, I can't. I will not tie you to me and to shame." "Of course you won't, you poor darling; but suppose--now I think this is about the stage when the hero and heroine had best sit on the sofa, or the heroine may perhaps faint." "Vernon, what are you talking about?" "We are quite comfortable now," he said. He drew me very close to him, and put his arm round my waist. "You little angel!" he said, "you darling! When I marry you I marry _honour_, not shame. Yes--honour, not shame. I marry the bravest girl on earth and the daughter of the bravest gentleman in His Majesty's army." "Vernon, what do you mean?" "I will tell you. Now you stay quite quiet and listen. Are you aware of the fact--perhaps you are not--that that dear Lady Helen, that precious stepmother of yours, has a brother who was in the army?" "Has she?" I asked. "I didn't know." "Well, I happen to be aware of the fact. He was a good-for-nothing, if anyone was in all the world. His name was Gideon Dalrymple. Surely your father has sometimes spoken to you about Colonel Dalrymple?" "Never," I said. "Well, it doesn't greatly matter; you're not likely to hear a great deal about him in the future--he is the sort of person whose history people shut up; but before that time comes I--have some work to do in connection with that same excellent officer in His Majesty's army." "Stop!" I said suddenly. I bent forward and looked into his eyes; my own were blazing with excitement, and my cheeks must have been full of colour.