You MUST tell
me what you mean, or I shall have to leave this house. My door was
ajar just now, and I saw you. For your own safety I must go. You
don't know. Well? Is it to be yes at last?"
"I am only just up, Mr Clare, and it is too early to take me to
task!" she pouted. "You need not call me Flirt. 'Tis cruel and
untrue. Wait till by and by. Please wait till by and by! I will
really think seriously about it between now and then. Let me go
downstairs!"
She looked a little like what he said she was as, holding the candle
sideways, she tried to smile away the seriousness of her words.
"Call me Angel, then, and not Mr Clare."
"Angel."
"Angel dearest--why not?"
"'Twould mean that I agree, wouldn't it?"
"It would only mean that you love me, even if you cannot marry me;
and you were so good as to own that long ago."
"Very well, then, 'Angel dearest', if I MUST," she murmured, looking
at her candle, a roguish curl coming upon her mouth, notwithstanding
her suspense.
Clare had resolved never to kiss her until he had obtained her
promise; but somehow, as Tess stood there in her prettily tucked-up
milking gown, her hair carelessly heaped upon her head till there
should be leisure to arrange it when skimming and milking were done,
he broke his resolve, and brought his lips to her cheek for one
moment.
Pages:
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306