"Of course not. My mother was an American--born and bred and married in New York."
"I suppose you scarcely remember her?"
"Scarcely," the young lady repeated, dryly; "since I never saw her."
"Indeed! She died then--"
"At my birth--yes. And now, Sir Everard"--the bright, clear eyes flashed suddenly full upon him--"is the catechism almost at an end?"
He absolutely recoiled. If ever guilt was written on a human face, it was readily written on his.
"Ah!" Miss Hunsden said, scornfully, "you thought I couldn't find you out--you thought I couldn't see your drift. Have a better opinion of my powers of penetration next time, Sir Everard. My poor father, impoverished in purse, broken in health, sensitive in spirit, chooses to hide his wounds--chooses not to wear his heart on his sleeve for the Devonshire daws to peck at--chooses never to speak of his lost wife--and, lo! all the gossips of the country are agape for the news. She was an actress, was she not, Sir Everard? And when I ride across the country, at the heels of the hounds, it is only the spangles, and glitter, and theater glare breaking out again. I could despise it in others, but I did think better things of the son of my father's oldest friend! Good-morning, Sir Everard."
She turned proudly away.
"Stay, Harriet--Miss Hunsden! Stop--for pity's sake, stop and hear me! I have been presuming--impertinent. I have deserved your rebuke."
"You have," she said, haughtily.
"But I asked those questions because the nameless insinuations I heard drove me mad--because I love you, I worship you, with all my heart and soul."
Like an impetuous torrent the words burst out. He actually flung himself on his knees before her.
"My beautiful, queenly, glorious Harriet! I love you as man never loved woman before!"
Miss Hunsden stood aghast, staring, absolutely confounded. For one instant she stood thus; then all was forgotten in her sense of the ludicrous. She leaned against a tree, and set up a shout of laughter long and clear.
"Oh, good gracious!" cried Miss Hunsden, as soon as she was able to speak; "who ever heard the like of this? Sir Everard Kingsland, get up. I forgive you everything for this superhuman joke. I haven't had such a laugh for a month. For goodness' sake get up, and don't be a goose!"
The young baronet sprung to his feet, furious with mortification and rage.
"Miss Hunsden--"
"Oh, don't!" cried Harriet, in a second paroxysm. "Don't make me rupture an artery. Love me?--worship me? Why, you ridiculous thing! you haven't known me two days altogether!"
He turned away without speaking a word.