"I have received a declaration."
"A declaration! Of what?"
"I have indeed," pursued Robertson, "a declaration of love. To be sure, I have been somewhat prepared for it. When a lady blushes, and shows evident signs of confusion, whenever she meets a gentleman, there is good reason to believe that her heart is really touched. Is there not?"
"I suppose so," said Wynslade, smiling.
"You conclude then that the lady must love him for himself, and not for his property?" inquired Robertson.
"Ladies who are influenced only by mercenary considerations," replied Wynslade, "seldom feel much embarrassment in the presence of any gentleman."
"There is no forcing a blush--is there?" asked Robertson.
"I should think not," answered Wynslade, wondering to what all this would tend.
"To tell you a secret," resumed Robertson, "I have proof positive that I have made a serious impression on a very beautiful young lady. You need not smile, Mr. Wynslade, for I can show you something that was presented to me the other day by herself, after first pressing it repeatedly to her lips."
He then took out of his waistcoat pocket the paper that contained the remnant of the camellia japonica, adding, "I can assure you that this flower was given me by the prettiest girl in the room."
The eyes of Wynslade were involuntarily directed to Selina.
"You are right," resumed Robertson. "That is the very lady, Miss Selina Mansel."
"Can it be possible!" exclaimed Wynslade. "Is this the lady that blushes at you? Did _she_ give you the flower?"
"Yes, she did," replied Robertson. "A true bill, I assure you. The flower was her gift, and she has just presented me with a piece of poetry that is still more pointed. And yet, between ourselves, I think it strange that so young a lady should not have had patience to wait for a declaration on my part. I wonder that she should be the first to break the ice. However, I suppose it is only a stronger evidence of her partiality."
"And what are you going to do?" asked Wynslade.
"Oh! I shall take her," answered Robertson. "At least I think I shall.
To be sure, I have been so short a time in Somerford, that I have scarcely yet had an opportunity of ascertaining the state of the market.
But, besides her being an only child, with a father that is likely to come down handsomely, she is very young and very pretty, and will in every respect suit me exactly. However, I shall proceed with due circumspection. It is bad policy to be too alert on these occasions. It will be most prudent to keep her in suspense awhile."
"Insufferable coxcomb!" thought Wynslade. However, he checked his contempt and indignation so far as to say with tolerable calmness--"Mr.
Robertson, there must be certainly some mistake. Before I went to India, I knew something of Miss Mansel and her family, and I reproach myself for not having sought to renew my acquaintance with them immediately on my return. She was a mere child when I last saw her before my departure.
Still, I know from the manner in which she has been brought up, that it is utterly impossible she should have given you any real cause to suspect her of a partiality, which, after all, you seem incapable of appreciating."
"Suspect!" exclaimed Robertson, warmly; "suspect, indeed! Blushes and confusion you acknowledge to be certain signs. And then there is the flower--and then--"
"Where is the piece of poetry you talked of?" said Wynslade.
"Here," replied Robertson, showing him the motto--"here it is--read--and confess it to be proof positive."
Wynslade took the slip, and read on it--
"To gain a look of your sweet face, I'd walk three times round the market-place."
"Ridiculous!" he exclaimed, as he returned the couplet to Robertson, the course of his ideas changing in a moment. The whole affair now appeared to him in so ludicrous a light that he erroneously imagined Selina to have been all the time diverting herself at Mr. Robertson's expense. He looked towards her with a smile of intelligence, and was surprised to find that she had set down her almost untasted ice-cream, and was changing colour, from red to pale, evidently overwhelmed with confusion.
"There," said Robertson, looking significantly from Selina to Wynslade, "I told you so--only see her cheeks. No doubt she has overheard all we have been saying."
Selina had, indeed, overheard the whole; for notwithstanding the talking of the ladies who were near her, her attention had been the whole time riveted to the conversation that was going on between Robertson and Wynslade. Her first impulse was to quit her seat, to go at once to Robertson, and to explain to him his mistake. But she felt the difficulty of making such an effort in a room full of company, and to the youthful simplicity of her mind that difficulty was enhanced by the want of a cent to put into his hand at the same time.
Still, she was so extremely discomfited, that every moment seemed to her an age till she could have an opportunity of undeceiving him. She sat pale and silent till Robertson stepped up and informed her that she seemed quite below par; and Wynslade, who followed him, observed that "Miss Mansel was probably incommoded by the heat of the room."
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, scarcely conscious of what she was saying; "it is, indeed, too warm--and here is such a crowd--and I am so fatigued--I wish it were eleven o'clock--I wish my father was here to take me home."
Both gentlemen at once volunteered their services; but Selina, struck with the idea that during their walk she should have a full opportunity of making her explanation to Mr. Robertson, immediately started up, and said she would avail herself of _his_ offer. Robertson now cast a triumphant glance at Wynslade, who returned it with a look of disgust, and walked away, saying to himself, "What an incomprehensible being is woman!--I begin to despise the whole sex!"
Selina then took leave of her hostess, and in a few minutes found herself on her way home with Mr. Robertson.
"Mr. Robertson," said she, in a hurried voice, "I have something particular to say to you."
"Now it is coming," thought Robertson; "but I will take care not to meet her half way." Then speaking aloud--"It is a fine moonlight evening,"
said he: "that is probably what you are going to observe."
"You are under a serious mistake," continued Selina.
"I believe not," pursued Robertson, looking up. "The sky is quite clear, and the moon is at the full."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Selina.
"I am fond of moonlight," persisted Robertson; "and I am extremely flattered at your giving me an opportunity of enjoying it with you."
Here he stopped short, fearing that he had said too much.
"My only motive," said Selina, "for accepting your offer of escorting me home, was that I might have an opportunity of explaining to you." Here she paused.
"Take your time, Miss Selina," said Robertson, trying to soften his voice. "I do not wish you to hurry yourself. I can wait very well for the explanation till to-morrow."
"No, you shall not," said Selina; "I must make it at once, for I shall be unable to sleep to-night till I have relieved my mind from it."
"Surely," thought Robertson to himself, "young ladies now-a-days are remarkably forward." "Well, then, Miss Mansel," speaking aloud, "proceed at once to the point. I am all attention."
Selina still hesitated--"Really," said she, "I know not how to express myself."
"No doubt of it," he replied; "young ladies, I suppose, are not accustomed to being very explicit on these occasions. However, I can understand--'A word to the wise,' you know: but the truth is, for my own part, I have not quite made up my mind. You are sensible that our acquaintance is of very recent date: a wife is not a bill to be accepted at sight You know the proverb--'Marry in haste and repent at leisure.'
However, I think you may draw on me at sixty days. And now that I have acknowledged the receipt of your addresses"----
Selina interrupted him with vehemence--"Mr. Robertson, what are you talking about? You are certainly not in your senses. You are mistaken, I tell you--it is no such thing."
"Come, Miss Mansel," said Robertson, "do not fly from your offer: it is too late for what they call coquetry--actions speak louder than words.
If I must be plain, why so much embarrassment whenever we meet? To say nothing of the flower you gave me--and that little verse, which speaks volumes"----
"Speaks nonsense!" cried Selina: "Is it possible you can be so absurd as to suppose"----Then bursting into tears of vexation, she exclaimed--"Oh that I had a cent!"
"A cent!" said Robertson, much surprised. "Is it possible you are crying for a cent?"
"Yes, I am," answered Selina; "just now, that is all I want on earth!"